The Lion, The Treehouse, and The Naked Mole Rat
by Rye-bread
Summary: Before the Four can come to take their place at Cair Paravel, Two must come to prepare the way. And so the Lion summons--Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable
1. Chapter 1: birthday in the treehouse

You've seen Kim and Ron in every crossover & fusion imaginable--in the Avengers, the Justice League, aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise, on Tatooine, in Transylvania--but how about Kim and Ron in--Narnia! (If you _have_ seen it, let me know.)

I've wanted to write this ever since I found since I learned that Disney was releasing "The Lion,The Witch, And The Wardrobe" in December '05.

I'm pleased, but not sastisfied. I want it to blow you our of your seats; I want it to knock your socks off. Oh my readers, critique the daylights out of it!

All the excellent children's books mentioned were by their respective authors. Kim & Ron belong to Disney; Narnia belong to--Disney? Oh, well, it's a corporate world; Narnia is the creation of C.S. Lewis.

All Hail the True King, both here and in Narnia.

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

CHAPTER ONE

"Mom, can we stay overnight in the tree house?"

Both Dr. Mom Possible and Mrs. Stoppable pretended to give weighty consideration to the issue. "Well, dear, I suppose so." Each mother marveled at both the duration and the durability of this friendship; and each mother dreaded the day when it must inevitably dwindle.

Dr. Possible in particular did not relish the prospect of this unique pair succumbing to the peer pressures

Kim would become enmeshed in the social food chain

she would notice boys

Kim was gawky now, with her braces and wide-eyed smile. She was already evincing Nana's Possible's feisty temper and impatience with people who were less motivated--and that included Ron. Kim would also be a beauty; her mother could envision her daughter even at this young age; after middle school, when the braces were due to come off, and she let her hair grow out, Kim would be a sultry-eyed siren.

But that was then, though, and this was now. It was a gala day for Kim in particular; it was her tenth birthday, a milestone occasion. Her parents had offered her whatever her heart desired: a party with dozens of her classmates at the local video arcade pizzeria, the toy(s) of her choice (she did express a keen interest in the new PandaRoo Cuddlebuddy), clothing, or cash. Kim was not to be swayed; it was a night with her very best friend in the treehouse. She wanted to spend this most important day with her most important person. Both parents consented.

And so both Kim and Ron slung their backpacks, laden with a couple sweatshirts, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Gatorade, and whatever other provisions were deemed suitable. Both shouldered their sleeping bags, hefted their flashlights, trekked to the base of the tree after sunset, and intrepidly scaled the ladder to their outpost.

The tree house had its well-stocked bookshelf: The Hobbit, Jumanji, The Magic Tree House, The Pagemaster, Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone, The Wizard of Oz, and The Chronicles of Narnia; tales of adventure, tales where ordinary people, children in particular, journeyed to new worlds, or were swept up by magical forces, embarked on quests, and emerged victorious over evil with enduring friendships.

"K.P., don't any of these have pictures?" it was an inane comment, and Ron was full of those.

Kim's hand ran over the bookcase; her finger settled on a particular book: "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe"; "Ron, let's read from this book," she said eagerly.

He shrugged; "Cool." They alternated chapters.

Kim began the first chapter: "Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy..."

They loved this book in particular. It seemed to grow on them. They identified with it as with no other book. Dorothy had no other human in Oz, even though she had the four fast friends. Bilbo was a wonderful hero, but he seemed too much like a fussy grownup. How cool it would be to wield magical powers, like Harry Potter but Kim and Ron had grown up loved and doted on; they couldn't identify with living under the stairwell, and boarding school was out of their realm of experience entirely. A mystical game that transported them to a dangerous land piqued their interest. But it was the idea of having secret adventures in a huge rambling house with empty rooms--so like the treehouse--and doorways to new worlds where one could grow up and have lifelong epic quests, and still return home in time for supper, that seized their imagination.

Lucy's conflicts with her two brothers felt just Kim's frustrations with the Tweebs, and Lucy's friendship with Mr. Tumnus felt like Kim's friendship with Ron. In fact, Lucy's protective feelings for the little faun reminded Kim exactly of how often she defended Ron from the bullies.

The old Professor reminded Ron exactly of his grandpapa, Jon Stoppable, who had passed away when Ron was very young; an empathetic man with a twinkle in his eye, a childlike sense of wonder, and the ability to make Ron feel like anything he said was worth all the attention in the world.

Ron often saw Lucy in Kim, the steadfastly loyal, the adventuresome; he also was starting to see Susan in Kim, the ever more maturing young lady growing out of childhood innocence--and that did not necessarily please him; he was starting to feel left behind.

The historical setting resonated with them also. Nana had told Kim stories of growing up during the worldwide conflict, and for any Jewish family, of course, the Second World War was fraught with somber significance.

It happened while in chapter seven Kim was reading the very words: "At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in it's inside." At that very instant something jumped inside both Kim and Ron. They stared at each other. Ron spoke first. "K.P., did you feel something just now--like going down a roller coaster? I feel like my stomach is left behind."

"I feel like--I don't know--like I'm going to see Mom at her office. Every time I go, it's like I'm going for a checkup; I hate that nervous feeling--but I love Mom--and I don't know which feeling is stronger."

"Or it's like Christmas--well, I mean Chanukah--it's the time of the year when all the decorations are up, and everyone looks so happy. You feel so--I dunno--Christmasy! It isn't just the presents--it's like something wonderful is gonna happen, and you feel nervous and happy all at once."

The conversation break seemed to break the thread of following the book's narrative; it felt perfectly natural to take a time out.

Kim folded her arms and leaned on the window sill, looking out. She sighed and gazed at the starry sky. "Ron, don't you long for something bigger, something more important ?"

"K.P., are you gonna sing 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'?"

"Ron--" she said wearily; even for Ron, this was excessively inane.

"Kim, seriously, I sort of like things how they are, like I always want them to be--like us, friends for life."

Kim was silent;she knew what she wanted: to attain a higher goals, to achieve, to aspire to a higher level, scholastically, socially, and ultimately, vocationally, not to settle for average. She hoped she would not outgrow Ron; she hoped he would keep up. She poured out her heart in silence as she marveled at the great dome of Heaven. Please, God, let him keep up; don't let me outrace him.

Ron was silent. He knew what Kim wanted: bigger and better. He was painfully aware of an increasing gap in their respective interests. She was acting older; he was acting dorky out of a sense of inadequacy--a defense mechanism. She used to laugh at it, but it didn't work any more; it irritated her. Adonai Elohenu--Lord our God--he would pray, like Grandpapa used to pray the Shema when he was most serious, when he meant business with God; don't let me choke--don't let me blow it--make me like David the warrior.

"When I'm in high school, I'm going to be on the yearbook committee, the cheerleading squad, the student council, the swim team...what about you, Ron? Are you going to try out for sports?"

As Ron had been listening to the roster of accomplishments Kim would aspire to by the time she was able to drive, he felt the strong sense of inadequacy stealing over him again. "Sports? nah--too violent--might get injured. Now if they have a club for video gamers, I might join the 'Ms. Pac-Men."

He grinned--until he saw her face. She seemed hurt--disappointed.

"Well---whatever you want to do with your life."

There was a low whistle from the ground below. "Son, your mother and I are about to turn in. She wonders if either of you kids want to use the bathroom before we turn the lights out."

And suddenly from the house, Mrs. Stoppable's voice blared. "Ronnie, do you have to go to the toilet before you fall asleep?

Ron cringed. At that moment, he could have leapt from the tree house into a bed of nails to try and ease the sense of shame. "No, Ma!" he bellowed back.

Mr. Stoppable called quietly again. "Sorry, son; I tried to tell her not to let the neighbors know--tell you what, I'll leave the porch lights off; you can come down to the house and do your business with out anyone watching." He glanced over at the house. "Better make it soon; she'll be out here in five minutes."

"Thanks, Dad,'" said Ron morosely.

The magic mood was gone; Both the kids felt very ill at ease and wanted to be anywhere but there.

When Kim and Ron were bedded down for the night, he whispered, "Kim!" But she did not move. Fine, he thought resentfully, I can ignore her, too.

In a moment Kim turned over and whispered "Ron!"; but he had turned away, and was sulking.

Kim too turned back away from her friend. she sniffled and wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. The little girl's heart she was trying so desperately to outgrow was desperately trying not to grieve. Her dearest and warmest friendship was slowly growing cold before her eyes--on her birthday! With a pathetic little pout she mouthed the words; why, God?

Ron heard the sniffling and reproached himself, but he was absolutely clueless how to fix things--even he felt the fundamental change; they were growing apart, and it couldn't be made right by just saying I'm Sorry and going back to how they were.

Both of them drifted off to uneasy sleep to the sound of the crickets.

In the morning, a strong wind swayed the tree. Ron saw an eagle overhead through the window--in Middleton? There were more eagles. "Uh, K.P..." He ran to the window. What was a back yard with the Stoppable house was now a vast forest; mighty oak trees, and sycamore, and elm. Valleys were all around them. At the edge of the horizon were towering purple mountains, capped with snow It was breathtaking; a wild far-flung landscape. Kim gasped in astonishment.

"K.P., we're not in Kansas anymore."

"You mean Colorado," said Kim impatiently.

Ron shrugged and pointed to the ground.

Kim felt the short hairs on her neck stand up; underneath the tree house, two leopards prowled.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Are we in Jumanji?"

They heard voices; thank God! They sighed with relief. Ron's parents were coming. A sense of safety stole over them; surely there would be an explanation.

They ran to the ladder--what they saw next was--a short but broad man with a long beard, dressed in chain mail and an iron cap, carrying a double bladed axe. They heard the thump of a hoof, and another hoof--a huge horse, and a huge bare chested man--not riding the horse--_connected_ to the horse, at the neck, where the head should be.

Kim grabbed Ron's hand in a panic. "Ron...!"

Ron had seen such a creature in the Everlot video game. "K.P.--that's a centaur!"

The short man heard their frantic whispering and looked up. He squinted his eyes under his bushy eyebrows and pursed his lips under the bushy mustache. "That's them--the human cubs we were told about. Aye! You two! Yes, you two scrawny looking things--come down!"

Kim and Ron shook their heads no vehemently. The Centaur folded his arms and curled his lip; he regarded them with supreme disdain. The Dwarf put his hands to his hips and tapped his toe with impatience. He turned to the leopards. "Well--it's up to you!"

One of the leopards scaled the tree and glided sinuously into the tree house. Kim and Ron stared in mortal terror, and hugged each other. Each had the same thought: if that thing attacks, I've got to protect my friend! The leopard bowed its head to the floor--and _spoke--in cultured accents_. "Children, most honored Visitors, my friends the Centaur and the Dwarf asked me to reassure you that they mean you no harm; therefore I implore you not to be frightened by their appearance. I am told that such beings are very rare in your world." Kim and Ron stared at each other, astonishment added to their mortal terror; polite talking leopards were not often seen either.

Kim was trembling like a leaf; Ron gathered himself as best as he could, and asked, "Pardon--." His voice cracked and came out falsetto, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Pardon me, sir--could tell me where we are?"

The Leopard cocked its head to one side quizzically--if a leopard could have a quizzical expression. "How puzzling--we were told that you had asked to come; we were sent to escort you to the Lion, Who is King over all. Very well, then..." The Leopard bowed again, more formally, and said in a courtly manner: "Kimberly Ann Possible, and Ronald Adrian Stoppable--" Kim and Ron jumped at the mention of their names; "--Children of Adam and Eve, in the Name of the Lion, the Son of the Emperor-Over-The-Sea, I welcome you to the Land of the Talking Animals, ruled by the Lion, Who is the True King, Blessed is He..."

Kim and Ron both began to gasp as it dawned on them; they knew what the Leopard would say next."

"I welcome you to--Narnia."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2: welcome to Narnia

Oh my patient readers. I know. It's been months. I have a dozen incomplete fics. My wife would say that's just like me.

The Narnian references are from the Narnian books. Kim and Ron are from Disney. All the other characters, the leopards, the dwarves, and the centaur are mine.

**__**

THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT

CHAPTER TWO

"Children of Adam and Eve: I welcome you to Narnia."

"N-Na-N-Na-N-Na."

Despite her fear, Kim was getting annoyed with Ron. He sounded like a 1950's rocker. She could feel her tweak muscles twitching. "Narnia, Ron," she said through clenched teeth. Even as she said it, she felt the strangeness, the unreality: the storybook land? with Cair Paravel, the Marshwiggles, the talking Animals, and the Lion--As--As--what was his name? Impossible!

A woman's melodious voice was heard from below. "Sinewyn--remember your manners!" The leopard's eyes widened. "Of course--my deplorable behavior! Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sinewyn."

As silent as a breath of wind, a second leopard entered the treehouse. Another leopard? Kim's terror level shot through the roof again.

"My dear, let me." Kim and Ron hugged each other even harder. Clucking its tongue, the new feline gently nudged the other aside. "Males--they always forget to introduce their spouse first." The leopard with the beautiful voice bowed. "I am Melandra, the consort of Sinewyn; and lest he forget, we would be honored if you would be our guests at our humble meal."

Kim paled; a meal? OMG, they're gonna eat us; she wanted to cry; Mommy, Daddy, come get us; I want to go to the mall after all! Please let this be a nightmare! Please let us wake up in a minute! She longed for the strong comforting embrace of her father. In what she thought was the closing moments of her life, she found warm feelings for even the little Tweebs. She bit her lip to stifle the weeping and hid her face in Ron's shoulder.

Ron liked to prepare food more than Kim; at this moment he was having the more vivid mental image. He could feel Kim's trembling; resolve grew firm in his heart; Not Kim, he thought; not on her birthday; that's just sick and wrong. He surprised himself--and her--by drawing her further into his hug.

The two leopards were gratified by this display of closeness; obviously what they had heard about the heartlessness of the race of Adam and Eve was greatly exaggerated. "Look dearest, how they embrace each other. What warmth, what affection! Isn't it adorable?"

"Shh, my love. We must not make them embarrassed or self conscious. After all, even humans have their self respect."

Melandra's voice sounded so comforting--like her mother's voice--but if Kim turned to look, she would see a fierce bewhiskered face --with _blue _eyes? Melandra had blue eyes--like her mother.

"Why, child--you're _trembling--_and _crying_!"

Kim sniffled.

"Oh--you poor thing--come--we must feed and warm you. I shouldn't wonder, being snatched from your home--your very world--to land among these brutes."

A cheerful voice called from below. "Come on, everyone! My cheese soup is getting cold!"

Ron perked up. "Cheese?"

Kim made a sound. It sounded like a sob, but it was a laugh, a chortle. Ron would always be Ron.

Smells circulated up through the opening of the treehouse: bacon and eggs, just like at home; her father having coffee, her mother pouring orange juice, her brothers hassling her. Kim was reminded again of this weird sitch: in Ron's treehouse for her tenth birthday, surrounded by their fav books. It was just them, and outside the window were the Stoppable's back yard, the neighborhood, and the city of Middleton.

Wrong. There were the two leopards--talking leopards--and outside the window was nothing like the neighborhood or Middleton.

Kim remembered last night: how fun it started out; packing their gear and food, taking turns reading the story. Then things turned sour: the disagreement with Ron; the discussion of their life goals; her sorrow at a friendship growing cold; her fervent prayer that it be revived.

She was recalling stuff. She could remember Nana telling her: head in the game, child. Her father always told her: remember, Kimmie-cub, anything is possible for a Possible.

Something growled. Sinewyn and Melandra? No; Ron's stomach.

"K.P.--I'm hungry."

In all truthfulness, so was she. That honest face before her, with the freckles and the ears and the hair--with the goofball grin and the kind brown eyes--finally swayed her.

Kim drew strength from Ron. The inside of the treehouse might be a pleasant false delusion. The strange creatures down below and the talking jungle predators might be a frightening reality or a sign of madness. But Ron was her reference point.

"D-did you say--you would feed us?"

Sinewyn smiled. "Yes, Daughter of Eve. My friend Turnskillet has prepared a true Narnian breakfast. Come and be fed." They were not going to be eaten.

Kim and Ron disengaged from their hug and slowly got to their feet.

As sinuous as they had entered, the leopards dropped out of the treehouse to the ground. Ron shimmied down. He smiled and beckoned. Hesitantly, Kim climbed the makeshift rungs of the ladder to the bottom of the tree. Her feet touched ground.

Ron put his arm around her shoulders and she clung to him. Both leopards flanked them. Melandra was careful to stand next to Kim.

The dwarf with the sour face and the centaur with the scornful expression continued to hold their impatient vigil at the tree trunk.

Sinewyn cleared his throat and proceeded with introductions in his most proper manner. "Children of Adam and Eve, this is Rimduffle, son of Grimble--"

The dwarf grunted.

"--and this is Kalderion."

Kalderion Goldenmane," said the centaur haughtily, in a voice as deep as a well. He thumped a mighty hoof on the ground. "I am the scion of warriors! We have served the cause of the Lion since the dawn of Narnia, my fathers and I!"

Rimduffle was no taller than the children, but he was as broad-shouldered as any Maddog football player with shoulder pads. His hands were huge, hairy, and grimy. Kim wrinkled her nose in disgust. The dwarf so needed a shower--or something.

Kalderion was magnificent. He had the pointed ears and arching eyebrows of an elf that the children had often seen in fairy tale pictures. His shoulder-length hair and short pointed beard shimmered like golden satin. A golden belt circled his (human) waist. Golden bands were on his wrists and upper arms. A great lion's-head medallion hung around his neck by a golden chain. The flanks and tail of his horse-body were glossy with a golden sheen. His hooves shown as bright as his armbands. He towered over them, as huge at the tree from their vantage point.

"Kalderion--Rimduffle--stand back--give this poor girl some breathing room!" Melandra spoke sharply to the two. To Kim she said quietly, as though gossiping, "You know, once, when I was standing in attendance upon the King--blessed is He--I asked Him--outside of Sinewyn's hearing--very humbly, but insistently--could not the Emperor Over The Sea have had a Daughter as well as a Son--to better understand the plight of women? He threw His Head back and roared with laughter. _'But that is why I made you, Melandra,'_ He said, _'To remind Me!'_ Oh such a joy He is, our Beloved, and how terrible He can be in wrath and judgment--but how typically male He can be!" Melandra felt very maternal and protective toward Kim, and Kim was starting to feel as reassured by Melandra's presence as by Ron's.

"Man-whelps; fragile hairless creatures. On such as these we must look for deliverance," Kalderion muttered disdainfully. "They would not survive a day in the Witch's winter."

Ron thought he heard the dwarf make a sound, like an evil chuckle--or a belch. Sinewyn shot back a reproving glance.

The leopards led the children to a cooking fire. A smaller dwarf than Rimduffle was busily stirring bubbling pots and sizzling pans.

"This is Grimble, son of Grimble, called Grimble Turnskillet," said Sinewyn.

"Hello, Children of Adam and Eve!" He had a ladle in one hand and a metal spatula in the other. He held both in his left hand while vigorously shaking the children's hands.

Grimble Turnskillet looked how Kim and Ron imagined a dwarf might look. He had a bright smile, rosy cheeks, and twinkling eyes. He wore a brown leather tunic, brown leggings, and brown pointed shoes and cap.

Ron was having mixed feelings. He was reminded uncomfortably of a certain lawn elf yard ornament back in Middleton, but the sight of the dwarf's food-spattered canvas apron warmed his heart.

"Yes, Children of Adam and Eve, Rimduffle is my brother. We are both sons of Grimble, but he inherited the strong arm and the beautiful face. I, the younger, have only the glib tongue, the quick hand, and the keen eye. If I dwelt in the cities where the rich are found, I could make my living as a pickpocket. But alas, I am a country lad, and in this bleak winter, the only rich folk are the Witch and those who serve her. So I must content myself with being poor. I am a cook because my quick hand can turn the food before it burns, and my keen eye can read the recipe book--"

"--And your glib tongue is busier than your quick hand! Hurry up! I grow hungry!" growled Rimduffle.

"And of course a cook always eats." added Grimble. "By the way, just call me Turnskillet."

Ron felt thoroughly--how could he put it--out of place. Here they were seemingly inside the storybook and about to have breakfast. He would call it a dream, but here was Kim beside him. She was not at all her usual self--the more confident, self-assured of the two. With the arm he had around her, he patted her shoulder and squeezed her arm.

The smells of home, the bacon and eggs. But not the sights of home, her parents and the Tweebs. Kim wanted desperately to see her father sipping his coffee, and hear the crinkling of his newspaper. Waves of sadness passed over her, and she was very glad to feel the friendly arm around her.

There were two small wooden stools. Turnskillet motioned to them with a towel over his arm, just like a waiter. "For the Children of Adam and Eve," he said. There were wooden plates, bowls, and mugs. There was flatware utensils, knives and forks--even cloth napkins.

"Do you guys carry this stuff with you wherever you go?" asked Ron. "Do you live nearby?"

"No, Ronald, Son of Adam," answered Turnskillet. "Our homes are far several days' journey away. I keep caches of food and supplies about. The Lion, Blessed is He, has commanded hospitality to all strangers, and we are here to aid those who flee the Witch's Winter."

Ron and Kim were both puzzled. "We shall tell all our stories shortly. Let our guests sup first," said Sinewyn.

Breakfast was like a feast; bacon, scrambled eggs, poached eggs, over easy eggs; hot oatmeal with brown sugar; stacks of pancakes with maple, apple, or blueberry syrup; raisin bread toast with marmalade jelly; mugs of orange juice, apple cider, eggnog, and cocoa--and the cheese soup.

"They really make a big deal about breakfast." Kim said quietly to Ron

"K.P, that's how they do it in Narnia," Ron answered. "Don't you remember the meal the beavers made for the Pevensies? And centaurs have to eat two meals. One for the man stomach and one for the horse stomach."

Kalderion overheard. "You seem quite learned in Narnian lore, man-whelp. Where did you acquire this knowledge?"

"Uh--well--I read it in the book."

Sinewyn's ears perked up.

"Hah! Are there picture books in the world of men? Is the print large enough for little eyes to see? Do you sound out the words?"

The dwarves and the centaur guffawed. Ron turned red. Sinewyn breathed a sigh of relief.

"Aren't you guys going to eat?" Kim asked.

"'Guys'?" asked Sinewyn, perplexed.

"She means us, dearest," said Melandra. She then turned to Kim. "No, Daughter of Eve. We killed and ate last night."

Kim turned pale. "You--killed--an _animal_?"

"It was not a talking animal, dear heart,' said Melandra in her most soothing voice.

Ron touched Kim's hand and she jumped. "Remember the story, K.P."

"The dumb beasts are our lawful prey," said Melandra quietly, "Even as the talking animals do not eat the fruit or the bark of a Living Tree. The Naiads and Dryads warn us."

His fellow Narnians were too busy eating, but Sinewyn noticed the children's references to books and stories. He hoped the others would not.

Melandra watched as Ron hovered around Kim, practically waiting hand and foot on her. Kim appeared irritated at one moment, tolerant the next. At one point she mischievously flicked a piece of food at with her fork.

"Oh, it's a food fight, eh?" Ron reached for her wrist and tried to empty his mug of juice on her. They tussled playfully for a moment.

Sinewyn uttered a gentle reprimand. "Children!" And they stopped.

Ron ate three or more plates of food; almost as much as Rimduffle. After meal's end, he burped loudly.

"Well done, lad, but can you do better?" said Rimduffle. He burped louder, and farted.

Grinning broadly, Ron sucked a huge breath and strained. He uttered a loud belch that lasted for more than five seconds, and farted for almost as long. Rimduffle and Turnskillet broke into laughter and applauded. Kim and Melandra wrinkled their noses in disgust at the smell. Sinewyn bowed his head to hide his smile.

Kim fanned the air in front of her with her open palm. _"Ron!"_ she said crossly.

And Ron mumbled apologetically, "Sorry, K.P."

Kim nudged Ron and whispered, "Follow me. We gotta talk." Ron nodded. They excused themselves, got up from the fire, and walked a distance. And Melandra perceived much.

Of the two, Kim was the obvious leader. She was now adjusting well to the experience of a different world than her own. Melandra felt a pride for her, a mother's pride for a daughter. How proud her own mother must be of her; and yet she must learn patience.

How they loved each other. How Ron loved her. How kind he was, and humble; and yet he must learn initiative.

Melandra marveled anew. _How wondrous are the ways of the King, Blessed is He. He has sent these two dear little children to rescue Narnia, to prepare us for the coming of the other four who will sit on the Thrones of Cair Paravel, and to herald the downfall of the White Witch. They will mold and influence each other. They will revive us, and we will forge them. This is the way of the Lion, that the small should confound the great, and the weak conquer the strong._

"K.P., what's up?" asked Ron when they were away from the others.

"Ron, don't you get it? We're not in Kansas any more, like you said. We gotta find out how we got here and how we can get home. Is this even real?"

"I dunno. Let's pinch ourselves." They did, on the arm. They seemed awake.

"Ron, even if this is someplace else, how could it be the real Narnia? That's a made-up place. And where's What's-His-Name, As--As--Why can't I say the name?"

Ron tried. He opened his mouth and tried to articulate, but could not. "K.P., this is awk-weird. It's like I can see a lion in my head, but I can't get the name out."

Both noticed Sinewy approaching. "Lady Kimberly and Lord Ronald, the time draws near when we must make a journey. All your questions will be answered. The Lion, Blessed in He, has summoned you to His Presence. That is why we are here, my companions and I, to be your protection."

"Sinewyn--" Kim felt strange saying the name, and talking to a leopard. "Why are you calling us 'Lady Kimberly--"

"--And Lord Ronald?" interjected Ron, although his ego felt stroked to hear himself addressed that way.

"That is the birthright of the Children of Adam and Eve--to be the Nobility of Narnia.

The children of Adam and Eve gulped. It certainly sounded like they were in the real Narnia.

Sinewyn spoke in low tones to Kim and Ron. "Lady Kimberly, I bear a message for the ears of you two Children of Adam and Eve alone, but especially you, Daughter of Eve. There is a Book which you have brought with you from your world. I am told it can be found in the house in this tree--which I perceive is the dwelling place of the Lord Ronald--and in which you were his guest--when you were both summoned to our land. The King--Blessed is He--enjoined me that you should bring it with you when we embark on our journey. It is a most important Book. It relates the history of Narnia. His instructions were most explicit. The book must be brought with us."

"Sinewyn, there're _lots_ of books in my--house of the tree--" And Ron stopped talking at once as it dawned on him: the history of Narnia. He clambered swiftly up the ladder, followed by Kim. Sinewyn remained on the ground.

"Sinewyn, aren't you coming up?" asked Kim.

"No, young Daughter of Eve. I entered at first as is required of a herald, but now the rules of hospitality must apply. I cannot enter another's home without their leave."

Kim and Ron looked at each other.

"Without my 'leave'? Does that mean he can come in only when I go out?" asked Ron.

Kim shook her head. "No. I think he means without your permission. That's how they talk here."

Such a contradictory sitch. The Narnian animals were more polite than the Narnian human-looking people.

"Yeah, Sinewyn. C'mon up," Ron called out.

Sinewyn was perplexed for a moment. The Son of Adam had such interesting linguistic terms; _yeah _and _c'mon_. Apparently, permission had been granted. Their vocabulary would require careful attention.

When he came through the entrance, he looked at the bookshelf. He saw it at once. "Ah, yes--er, yeah--there it is." (He would try to adopt their colorful phrases to make them feel at home.) There it was--what the two children were staring at with such amazement.

The Chronicles of Narnia paperbacks were gone. In their place was a large leather volume with brass hinges and a brass latch, like the lock on Kim's diary. Kim lifted the book from the shelf. She was amazed again by how light it felt for its size.

Kim stared at Ron, and Ron shrugged at Kim. He could no more figure it out than she could.

"I beseech your pardon, Lady Kimberly. The Lion--Blessed be He--advised that I should inspect it--with your permission--to verify that it is the proper Book."

Kim was baffled. She had no means to open the latch--when with a click the latch came apart. Puzzled, she turned back the cover of the book to the flyleaf. The title was written in an ornate script: "The Chronicles of Narnia."

Sinewyn was quietly astonished. "A written history of Narnia--from the world of humans. It is a wonder."

Kim paged through the book. The words were a fine flowing handwritten script. She saw familiar words that she pronounced to herself. "Digory...Polly..."

Sinewyn's ears perked up. He was rapt, fascinated. "Those were the human children who were present when Narnia was made."

"...Uncle Andrew..."

"Yes," Sinewyn said, "That poor fool, Digory's uncle, Andrew Ketterly, who fancied himself a learned magician, but was only a dupe for a far more wicked one."

Kim mentioned the word "Charn", and a snarl appeared on Sinewyn's face. But at the mention of the name "Jadis", his tail fluffed, the hackles of his back went up, and he hissed and spit. The children were startled, and the leopard apologized.

"Forgive me for my unseemly response, honored Children of Adam and Eve. This is the most hated name in Narnia; she who destroyed her own world with a single magical utterance, the Deplorable Word, she who is now an invader, a disease, a usurper of the Throne, she who has encased all the land in her foul winter...tell me--it there more?"

Kim turned a few pages. "It mentions King Frank--and Queen Helen."

"...The first King and Queen of Narnia. They were charged with caring for the animals. And the children, Polly and Digory--because of them, it was decreed that from then on, only human children may be summoned to Narnia."

Kim came abruptly to the end of the written pages. The rest of the book, more than three quarters, was blank. "I-I don't get it.

"This is history that is not yet, child. It is still to be written."

"Sinewyn, there's something on the last written page."

When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone

Sits at Cair Paravel in throne

The evil time will be over and done

Sinewyn shut his eyes. Tears came from under his lids. Kim and Ron had never heard of a cat--or big cat--crying.

"It is the Prophecy." He bowed to them and they stood surprised at his words. "You are truly the successors of the Lady Polly and the Lord Digory. You are the ones of whom it was foretold; you would be the heralds, the harbingers, the messengers who would come before the Four. You bear the message that will kindle the hearts of all true Narnians. Lady Kimberly and Lord Ronald, I honor you and pledge to serve you, the princess and prince of Narnia."

TO BE CONTINUED


	3. Chapter 3: a prophecy: two shall come

C.S. Lewis had a niece named Lucy. She was the inspiration for Lucy Pevinsie. Likewise, Linariel prompted me to do the second chapter, & Hermoine Solo prompted me to do the third chapter. Maybe I need a kick from Steel Toe to do the rest.

Twila Starla, Cylon One, whitem, I've seen your names on review pages all over I'm honored to have caught your attention.

MrDrP--what can I say? U da Epic Sitch Man! I appreciate ALL your reviews, both positive and negative, both public and private. And, literary genius that you are, you have divined the intent of my tale.

Chao-helsing, master of the dA K.P. screencap montage; fear not. The Pevinsies, Tumnus, Jadis, and the Lion Himself, Blessed is He, will find their place in the tale.

To the rest: Darth Comrade, kemiztri, NarnianAslan, pinkymint, Isayssoccer, FAH3, Rongo, The Enduring Man-Child, Calamite --thank you!

Hermoine Solo, don't be sad. I can't stand it when a woman cries.

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**CHAPTER 3**_

_Far west of Narnia, Sinewyn and Melandra had traveled, summoned by the Lion, Blessed is He. They stood before His Glory, their faces averted._

_"My dear friends, I am sending you forth. The Children of Adam and Eve have petitioned Me to come to Narnia, and I have heard their petition. Treat them well. Look to their needs and wants. I love them dearly, and you will love them, too. They have a special bond, but the bond grows frail. I have a purpose for them. They will renew the Land, and the Land will renew them. Gather those of My servants whom you need and escort the Children to My Presence. They are not even aware how much they desire Me--as I desire them._

_**When the Winter is old**_

_**And hearts grow cold**_

_**Two shall come, never apart**_

_**Of two minds, but of one heart**_

_And Melandra and Sinewyn bowed themselves to the ground. "Yes, my Lord," they said. They gathered certain fellow Nanians for a great task--and journeyed to meet the freckled Son of Adam and the red-haired Daughter of Eve._

Sinewyn bowed before Kim and Ron in the treehouse. "I greet you, Prince and Princess of Narnia."

Kim and Ron stood dumbfounded

Ron tried to form words. "Pr--pr--pr--."

"A chill has fallen on the hearts of the Narnians, and you will bear the message."

"Me--me--me--."

Kim groaned. Again with the stutter. "Sinewyn, time out. Ron, we so gotta talk!"

"Time--out?" Sinewyn cocked his head.

"Um--give us a minute, Sinewyn."

Puzzled, Sinewyn lithely dropped out of the treehouse to the ground. He listened intently, trying to decode what Kim had said. He had a mental image of a sundial being cast out of the window of the house of the tree--and then smiled to himself. He realized that this was how Ronald would construe the phrase. How these two Children of Adam and Eve were endearing themselves to him. He was coming to love them as he would his own cubs.

_Time...out_--obviously it meant a brief moment apart--to confer, to _talk_, as Kimberly had said. He noticed how informal Kimberly and Ronald were. They addressed each other in the shortened forms of their names. Obviously these were terms of endearment. Ronald even used an abbreviation: _K.P._ He tried to imagine himself and Melandra relating thus; Syn and Mel, or M.L.--for Melandra the Leopard.

Come now, he told himself, pay attention! _We so gotta talk._ Gotta--an interesting word. Got-to; ah, that was it; a contraction, a grammatical term, like "have to". _We so..._the way that word preceded the verb, for emphasis--. Yes! He solved it! _Ronald! We **must** speak in private for a moment!_ Fascinating!

Sinewyn looked forward to accompanying the Children of Adam and Eve. Praise to the Lion, for allowing himself and his consort the privilege of ministering to these two precious ones.

"What's he mean, 'Prince and Princess of Narnia--come before the Four'?" asked Ron.

"Don't you get? The Four Thrones in Cair Paravel? We're here _before _the Pevinsies came!"

Ron sat down as though someone had struck him. This was a big thought to wrap his mind around " _Before _them--how could--?"

"I don't know! But all the Narnia books are gone--and this big--_thing_--is here!" Kim hefted the huge volume.

"K.P.--don't _you_ get it? Your books turned into--_this_!"

Kim sat down shocked. This did not often happen, Ron realizing something before Kim.

"K.P.--what's going on? What's happening?"

Kim shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"K.P.--what do we do?"

Kim answered frantically. "You're asking _me_? What did I just _tell _you? Why do you think _I_ know?" Frustrated, she began to cry.

"Sorry, K.P. I guess I'm just used to you taking charge."

"Sometimes, Ron, you just tweak me so badly."

Just like earlier, Ron drew Kim into his hug. And for a moment both thought how odd that the "anything is possible for a Possible" girl should need comfort, but how sweet and comforting this was, just like earlier, much earlier, that first day, more that half a decade before, when they met at ABC Daycare.

_Her parents had assured her that she would find the new experience enjoyable and fulfilling. All she wanted was to stay home and take care of Mom until her baby sister was born. But here she was. And the three bullies had stolen her ball and pulled her hair. The teacher didn't seem to care. By naptime she was a bundle of nerves, quivering in fear under her blanket. But the new kid appeared, with the ferret shirt, the freckles, and the invisible friend Rufus. He demanded that they leave her alone, so they ganged up on him. Without knowing why, her spirit flared up. She flattened all the bullies. The teacher didn't seem to notice that, either. The two kids shared the ball and the swings and their lives from that moment. She would lead and he would follow--sort of. He would talk and she would listen--sort of. It puzzled Kim, later. Why had she done it--suddenly grow a spine? Was it because he dared do for her what she felt she couldn't do for herself? And then she did the same for him? Kim would decide that Daddy was right--anything is possible for a Possible; but Ron was right, too. You have to add the proper ingredient to the recipe. And that ingredient was a Special Friend._

"K.P.?"

"Hmm?" Her voice was muffled

"I think I know what's going on."

"What?"

Well--this sounds really dumb, but--we're dreaming. We read the Narnia books last night and we're in a dream about Narnia. And you know how sometimes you can't do stuff in a dream--like the bad guy is coming and you can't run away? Well--we can't say the name of the Lion, As--Asla--whatever, even thought we remember it--we know that we know it."

It was a moment before Kim spoke. "Okay, genius. Are we both having the same dream, or just one of us, and the other is in it?

"Well, it depends on who's sleeping the deepest--or the least--what your mom told us about--that ream thing."

"R.E.M., Ron--Rapid Eye Movement--it's the state dreams occur in. There's light sleep, R.E.M. sleep, and heavy sleep--like you do in class." Kim frowned. "So tell me. How do we know which one of us is having the dream?"

Ron's head spun. He supposed he would have to study the human body someday--in high school. Until then he could feel safe in postponing such heavy duty subjects--and napping in class--or so he thought. If the other students were more like Kim than him, he was in deep trouble. "Uhh--the one could lift up the other's eyelid and look?" Dumb answer. He knew it even before he said it.

"That's in cartoons, Ron. And since I sound like I'm doing the thinking, it must be me having the dream." Sarcastic answer. Kim could so kick herself. Ron meant well. Why did she have to be such a mean little thing?

"Well, not really. It could be me imagining that I'm you." How did Kim manage to have it so together? Must be nice to have a rocket scientist and a brain doctor for parents. _His _father was an actionary--actually--actuary--numbers guy--whatever.

It was often enough that Kim was exasperated with Ron. It was no fun when she was also crying. "That makes no sense! How could it be you imagining you're me when I'm looking at you and having my own thoughts inside my mind?

"Waitaminute, lemme think! It could--it could be that--" Ron clapped his hands "--It could be that I know you so well that it could seem like it's you with your thoughts. And the other way could work, too. I could be looking at you and think it's me with my own thoughts, but it's really you having the thoughts because you know me so well that it could feel like you're me when you're really you."

It was pure Ron-logic. Kim smiled even as she sniffled. She grinned. She couldn't help it. She chuckled. She broke into laughter, clear, pristine laughter. Ron began to chuckle, too. In a moment, the treehouse and the whole forest around rang with it.

From the ground Sinewyn listened. It was even as the Lion, Blessed is He, had said:

_"I love them dearly, and you will love them, too."_

By the fire, the rest looked up. Turnskillet shrugged and returned to his work. Kalderion sneered and shook his head.

"Stupid Children of Adam," Rimduffle grumbled. "Those two will draw the spies of the Witch like a candle draws moths. We are all in deadly peril."

"That is why we are here, friend Rimduffle," Melandra gently said, "To defend them to our last drop of blood, if need be."

"_I_ am here because you needed my skill as an armorsmith, leopardess--and because my friend Kalderion prevailed on me."

"And I am here to uphold the vow of my fathers," said Kalderion.

Melandra sighed silently. Even among the faithful Narnians, there was a coldness of spirit.

The children couldn't stop laughing. When Kim's laughter was starting to level off, she would look at Ron and break into laughter all over again--and likewise with Ron. Then they both got hiccups. When one hiccupped, the other giggled.

Rimduffle was losing patience. "Children should be seen and not heard!" he said loudly, intending to be overheard. It didn't help. Like all children whom adults try to reprove or shame into silence, it only caused another outburst of giggling.

"He can be seen," Kim whispered.

"And heard," whispered Ron.

"And smelled," Kim answered.

Which caused another spate of giggling--and caused the dwarf to glare at the treehouse with an air of injured pride.

Melandra came and curled up near Sinewyn. "Do you remember, love? When our own cubs were young? The more we would reprove them, the worse it became."

"Truly the Lion, Blessed is He, has granted a sense of the ridiculous and the gift of laughter to children. I used to grow so exasperated. But I would give much to have those days again. Yes, dearest, I look forward to minding these two human cubs." They touched heads and purred.

Finally the laughing fit tapered off. "K.P.--Dad says--numbers don't lie."

Kim was puzzled. "How do you mean?"

"I'm trying to think like you--or my dad--or even your dad--"

"Don't give yourself a headache," Kim said with a smirk.

"Oh, are you dissin' the Ron-dog?" Ron stood and moved toward her.

"Ron Stoppable! What are you gonna do? Stop! Don't you dare! _Eeek!_"

A tickle fight erupted, prompting a new session of giggles in the treehouse.

"Do you remember, my sweet? We used to play thus in our youth," said Melandra.

"Before we even courted. We were but cubs ourselves. I feel the years roll from my back. Truly they are a joy to me," said Sinewyn.

The sounds of play also prompted more glares of disapproval from the rest, Kalderion in particular, after listening to something whispered from Turnskillet, stared at the treehouse with such naked hostility that Melandra's hackles went up.

The centaur slowly approached the leopards at the base of the tree, frowning darkly, his guilded hooves thumping the ground heavily. "Friend Sinewyn--I would not begin to presume--but these woods are not secure. If you intend to deliver these frivolous little creatures to someone of importance--be it the Lion Himself--Blessed is He--we should do so quickly. Otherwise give us leave to depart and let some wandering predator that is not a Speaking Animal find a scrumptious evening meal.

Melandra's eye's blazed.

Kalderion saw the wrath in her face and bowed stiffly. "Your pardon, Consort of Sinewyn, but I have never known a mate or raised cubs. I have little patience with such little ragtags." He turned and went back to the cookfire

"My consort," she warned, "Note Kalderion's behavior. If it were anyone but him, I would suspect hostile intent."

Sinewyn also saw. "We must double our vigilance over these precious little ones."

Melandra sensed Sinewyn's unspoken thoughts, and Sinewyn chided himself for his brief careless attitude. It was a sad fact that as the Witch's Winter wore on, many Narnians entered her service, as paid informants, spies, and saboteurs. Even some of the dryads, the tree, rock, and water spirits had followed the Witch into corruption, and had become Hags, Demons, and Sorceresses themselves.

Sinewyn thought he had selected well, but the terrible truth was that there might be a traitor in the camp. No centaur in the history of Narnia had ever stooped to such villainy, but again, such assumptions were no longer safe. Still--Kalderion Goldenmane?

It broke Sinewyn's heart to think about it, and caused him to dread the prospect. Could even he and Melandra's combined subdue as mighty a creature as Kalderion Goldenmane?

"Blessed are thou, oh Emperor Over The Sea, and Blessed is thy son, the Lion. Make us strong in Thy service and in the defense of the Chosen," he prayed quietly.

The sounds of the tickle fight dwindled. Ron and Kim lay exhausted, disheveled, but free of care.

"K.P.--I'm sorry I tweaked you. You're right. Like Dad would say, I gotta pull my weight and I have this idea. It's like that time your dad helped us with our science fair project--which, I guess--you did all the work on."

"So not," said Kim with wry grin. "I let you write the label--and you at least put my name ahead of yours: 'Project by Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable.' "

"Thank you--I think," said Ron, doing a double-take. "But here's my idea. Like Prof. Kirke told the Pevinses about logic: Lucy always told the truth, and Edmund always lied. So if Lucy was telling a really far out story, and Edmund said she was whack, then the Professor said to believe Lucy, 'cause Ed was always the bogus one. We do the same thing; we use logic. Everything that's happened to us could be a dream. First, we read about Narnia last night, so it's what we were thinking most about. Second, we--uh, argued before we went to sleep, so we were like, all tense and stuff. I saw this show--or something--that said you dream as a--um--." Ron clutched his head, trying to recall.

"--'Outlet'?" ventured Kim. She had seen the same program on the Science Network.

"Yeah! What you said! Dreams are outlets when you're worried--thanks, K.P."

"No big. Go on."

"Okay. Third, we can't recall the Lion's name--but we just read the story. Fourth, dreams can seem really lifelike--even with talking animals and centaurs. We even ate the meal. Now, how do we figure out if it's a dream or real life? We make an experiment, like in science class. We state our hypothesis: we're in a dream. We test the hypothesis by testing the variables. Do things seem lifelike? We already know that won't necessarily work, like we could try pinching ourselves. That program told how people's brain waves showed they were experiencing real pain or pleasure in dreams. Sometimes, people could even do terrible stuff while they were sleepwalking, like killing someone, because they were having a dream about something dangerous. Here's my idea. How do we tell it's a dream? The first is if we wake up. We would just look out the window and see my house, or hear Mom call us to breakfast. The second is--we are supposed to be 'the foretold messengers', like we're predicted. If we appear in the Book," he said, pointed to the large volume, "We know it's not a--wow--dream The third is--we're all hung up on the Lion's name. If--big if--we remember the name, or if we hear one of the others mention the name, or if we even _see _the Lion--" Ron swallowed "--We know it's not a dream. We know we're in real life. Those are our tests."

From under the tree, Sinewyn and Melandra listened intently.

"Can you comprehend what they are saying, dearest?" asked Melandra.

"I can hear their words plainly, but what the words mean mystifies me. Our young Prince has a greater head for wisdom than he or our little Princess has ever supposed, but they are sceptical. That much is evident. They speak of a man called Kirke, a professor, a scholar--can this be the Digory Kirke?

Melandra's eye's widened with awe. "That was the Creation of the World! Are these little cubs that old? Can Digory Kirke still be alive on their world?

Up in the treehouse, Kim was impressed. Her head spun as she tried to follow all the points Ron propounded. "Ron--that's the awesomest idea you ever came up with! It's like hearing my dad talk!"

"So it's settled. If we meet the Lion and His Name's Asl--Asla--" Ron grew frustrated with the seeming paralysis of his lips. He tried to spell, silently mouthing the letters. A-S-L-A...his mind couldn't grasp. It was like in a dream when he would try to make his legs walk somewhere and his legs wouldn't obey. But it was a comforting sign that he still might wake up. Still--

Kim looked longingly around the treehouse.

Ron could feel her angst. "K.P.? You okay?"

Her eyes were sad. "Ron, I can't help but wonder. If this is all real--will we ever see Middleton again?"

"Kim, I don't know how to play the game, but--Truth or Dare."

"Truth."

"The truth is--last night, when you were talking about high school, I was jellin' so bad, I could hardly stand it."

"Ron--_why_?"

_"_Because you're gonna do all these things--swim team, student council--heck, K.P. you're gonna be class prez, student council prez--even Prez of the _United States_!"

"But you could--do things--too!"

"No, I can't! You've got the brains, the looks--you're gonna be Popular. You're gonna be a Cheerleader! You're gonna have boyfriends!"

"Boyfriends? Eww! With these braces?"

"Kim! Don't you ever see yourself in a mirror? You got this red hair--these green eyes--you're _gorgeous_! You think you're gonna have those braces forever?"

"Well--I hope not."

"K.P.--all I've got is _you_! I swear, if we weren't best buds, I would so crush on you--"

"--Omigod--Ron--"

"--And that's why I want to go on this Narnia thing. When you're Popular, I'll be hanging with geeks like that Malcolm Nevius kid, or Ned with the glasses--y' know, we always see him at Bueno Nacho. But if I get to go with you--to see the Lion--to have an Adventure--then I can be content. For the rest of my life, I can remember."

"Ron, you'll_ always_ have me! We'll _always_ be tight! And no stinkin' Boyfriend is gonna change that!"

"Pretty words, Kim--we'll see." But that topic was for another time. Ron leaned out the treehouse door and called out to Sinewyn and Melandra. "Guys? K.P. and I are done talkin'. We've decided."

Melandra stared puzzled at Sinewyn. "My dear, your familiarity with the Children of Adam and Eve is greater than my own. You have taught me that males and females are referred to as 'guys' and 'gals'. Why does he call us 'guys'? Do I look so much like you? And who is this 'Kay-Pee'?"

Sinewyn smiled. "Apparently, I am less familiar than we thought. I shall apply myself to becoming an able interpreter." Both leopards scaled the tree and entered the treehouse. They sat respectfully and waited for the children to speak.

Kim had gotten over her first terror. Melandra's blue eyes reminded her so of her mother's eyes. But, still, it was a strange sitch. She had once seen the leopards at the Denver Zoo, but they were safely enclosed. The nearness of these two still made her nervous.

Ron cleared his throat. "We--K.P. and I--want to go with you to see--the Lion. We figure it's important, or we wouldn't have come here--or you, either"

Kim rolled her eyes. It was a simple thing to say, but leave it to Ron to mess it up. How would they know "K.P." meant "Kim"? And the Narnians walked here--heck, they already _lived_ here. They didn't wake up in a new place on their tenth birthday, like--_bang_--there they were in the morning. Even Dorothy could see the tornado coming. Even the Pevinsies got to walk through the Wardrobe.

Sinewyn nodded approvingly. "It is well, Children of Adam. Your courage does you, your people, and your entire world credit."

"Sinewyn, besides the book, what should we bring with us?"

Sinewyn gestured with his forepaw toward their sleeping bags and backpacks. "If you wish to bring your bedrolls and cache of food, you may, but you need not if you wish to travel unencumbered. All will be provided."

Ron gathered his courage. Time to put the hypothesis to the test. "Sinewyn, there's something we gotta tell you. This book that tells the history of Narnia? Last night, when we were still in Middleton--um, our world, this was a storybook--a bunch of storybooks. In our world, Narnia is like a fairy tale. It was written for children--like us--almost a hundred years ago."

"Slight exaggeration, Ron," as K.P. nudged him.

"The point is, Sinewyn--even if some of the story has disappeared, we're not in it."

Sinewyn smiled slightly. "Are you sure, my young prince? Look carefully at the last printed page."

Kim opened the book to the page and showed it to the leopards.

**When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone**

**Sits at Cair Paravel in throne**

**The evil time will be over and done**

"So? Sinewyn, I'm sorry, but it's the same as before--." And even as Ron spoke, Kim tugged frantically on his sleeve, and he finally looked over at the book. It was as though the words appeared with such suddenness that they were already there.

**When the Winter is old**

**And hearts grow cold**

**Two shall come, never apart**

**Of two minds, but of one heart**

Kim gripped Ron's hand as though she would never let go, and Ron gripped back. "Omigod, omigod, omigod..." she muttered. Their eyes grew wide. Their breath stopped and they could feel chills down to their toes.

"We are here, my dear hearts," Melandra whispered. "Fear not."

"In a story that you or I would tell, we may choose what to include and what to delete. But in the Great Tale that the Lion writes, everyone who lives and everything that happens has a part. Your courage will be tested--and it will not be in vain. We pledge our lives to protect you. In peace and safety shall you travel," said Sinewyn, "As we bring you--to the Lion's Presence." In a louder voice he called to the dwarves and the centaur. "Let us break camp! We are about to embark on a great journey!"

And Kalderion said nothing, but only went about his work in sullen silence.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

(I know--lotsa talk in this chpt.--more action in the next one.)


	4. Chapter 4: the quest begins

If you've seen my dA page, you will know that I'm off work on mental health a d suffering from depression--& other things. So I've never been so productive fanfictionally.

It's a long time between updates. Glacially Slow Writer. Sorry about that, my readers. Hope this was worth the wait.

The thing with the Land of Refuge, the Lion's Name, and Solomon's Temple from the Bible? My Muse--or Plot Bunny--or whatever. There's a point to it. Trust me.

The scene with the Dryads appearing as swirls of leaves and twigs is seen in the Disney movie, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I figured I would use it here.

Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Middleton, Joss Possible, Slim Possible, Arnie Custer, the Tweebs are the creation of Bob Schooley and Mark McCorkle.

Digory Kirke, Polly Plummer, Eustace Scrubb, the Pevinsies, Narnia, Jadis, Maugrim, Telmar, Calormen, the Tisroc, Archenland and the Lion (Asl--what's--His--Name) are the creation of C.S. Lewis.

References are made to famous literary characters. Lucy and Charlie Brown are the creation of Charles Schultz. Tom Sawyer, Becky Thatcher, Huckleberry Finn, and Jim are the creation of Mark Twain. The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy, Toto, the Good Witch of the North, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, and the Cowardly Lion are the creation of L. Frank Baum.

Sinewyn, Melandra, Turnskillet, Rimduffle, Kalderion, Freya Lacewing, Safra, Athalia Birch-girl, Slackjaw, and Fangdrip are my creation. Sorry. Adding more characters. Like the snowball rolling downhill. But each character will have a role to play.

And since a Narnia story isn't a Narnia story with out one of the original characters, I decided it was time to put one in. See if you can spot him / her.

Flame away, my readers. I've got plenty of time to read reviews these days.

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**CHAPTER 4**_

As a last gesture of preparation, Kim checked her backpack. Yes. The toothbrushes were there. She had brought them with her the first night of the treehouse campout. That was typical Kim. Prepare for herself--and for her friend.

Kim and Ron shouldered their backpacks and descended the ladder.

Kalderion, Rimduffle, and Turnskillet had already started on the trail, without a backward glance.

Melandra and Sinewyn waited patiently.

Kim looked back longingly at the treehouse. "I feel scared, Ron," she whispered. "Really, really, really scared."

"K.P., you can do anything," said Ron. "Anything is possible for you." He gripped her hand tightly.

She smiled weakly and returned the grip.

And so the little group set out in its great quest.

They were on the trail. Kalderion the centaur lead the way, shouldering a huge ax. Then the dwarves. Then the leopards. Kim walked next to Melandra, one hand on her shoulder. Kim had adopted Melandra as a surrogate mother

Ron was on Kim's other side sometimes, and with Turnskillet sometimes, and with Sinewyn sometimes. His curiosity was insatiatable. He asked them about everything. Did Sinewyn and Melandra have children? Yes. Several litters. That equaled dozens of cubs.

(_Oh, please, Ron,_ thought Kim. _So the embarrassment._)

Did Turnskillet or Rimduffle have wives and kids?

Rimduffle grunted.

That meant no, said Turnskillet. Many dwarves remained single and gave themselves to their craft--whether that was soldiery, metalworking--or cooking.

Was Kalderion married?

A grim glance from the giant Centaur made Ron keep silence.

Kim whispered to Melandra. "Sometimes he is such a typical** guy**!"

"Worry not, Dear Heart," said the leopard. "For every moment of foolishness and irritation in our men, the Lion, Blessed is He, has ordered an equal amount of wisdom. Your good friend will say or do something that will win your heart again."

They all carried part of the gear--except Kalderion

Kim had remembered from the books: never ask a centaur to carry you. Ron and the leopards had reminded her anyway. Centaurs were proud beings. And one look at Kalderion would have certainly made her reluctant. And the hostile looks he gave her.

Kim's thoughts were a jumble. Her heart was a turmoil. It wasn't Fair, she told herself. Snatched away from her tenth birthday. In the books, all the other kids who went to Narnia had no life--or a messed up life. Digory's mother was sick, and he was in the custody of a wicked uncle. The Pevensies were in the middle of a war. London was being bombed by airplanes every night. Their father was a soldier and their mother had sent them away for their own safety. Eustace had weird parents who believed in weird stuff like Modernism and Progressive Education, and Socialism--whatever they were. He was at a weird school that didn't believe in fairy tales. He had bullies giving him trouble.

Kim's life was fine. Her school was fine, her family was fine--except for the little Tweebs--her friends were fine--even Ron. Why take her away?

Ron--yeah--there was another matter. Now that he was in Narnia, Ron was so--like--he was All That. Talking with the others like he had known them all his life. _Hey, Ron! Yo! Back here! Your K.P. We'll always be tight--remember that? At least turn your head. Phooey_.

Now Ron is a perfect candidate for a trip to Narnia. He's afraid of everything. What did Lucy tell Charlie Brown? "You have pentaphobia--you're afraid of everything." Ron's not brave. Ron's just ignorant. He doesn't look ahead. Trips to Narnia are about danger--and peril. It's all there. Ron was the one afraid of growing up back home. Ron was the one who wanted to punk out when Kim mentioned high school, and Student Council, and Debate Team, and Driver's Ed. Ron was the one who cheated off Kim's homework--and sometimes got sent to the corner. Sometimes Kim got sent with him--just for being a stand-up friend. Kim wanted to outdo her parents in school. She would be _both _a brain surgeon and a rocket scientist when she grew up.

Ron was the one who needed defending from bullies--like Arnie Custer (that was **Ron's**fault--with the slingshot)--and bugs.

And meeting the Lion--Asl--whatever. That was never comfortable in the books. He always made the kids feel nervous--like a teacher could make you feel nervous--if they caught you passing a note in class.

There was a thing the books never talked about. No book did. Not The Wizard of Oz. Not Jumanji. Not Tom Sawyer, or The Hobbit. It was--gulp--going to the bathroom.

The Dwarves--what would they care about sanitation--especially Rimduffle?

Kim was the daughter of a surgeon. _Wash your hands after going to the bathroom._ Ron needed reminded--if not from his parents, then from Kim.

Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher were stuck in a cave for days. Did Becky lift up her skirts in a ladylike way and squat?

Huckleberry Finn and Jim lived on a raft going down the Mississippi River. Did they pull in to shore, or did they just sit on the edge of the raft?

There was Dorothy and her four friends in Oz. The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodsman were enchanted beings. They didn't eat or drink. Nothing went in, so nothing came out. And the Cowardly Lion. He was an animal, so like Toto, he did his business in the bushes. What did the Witch of the North tell Dorothy to do when nature called?

Would it even matter? Dorothy was a Kansas farm girl. Kim had seen how it was when she went to visit Uncle Slim up in Montana. Cousin Joss was not shy about dropping her drawers when she had to. It was a big ranch, and they might be many minutes' walk from the house.

_"Heck, Kim, it's nuthin' but us 'n' the livestock,"_Joss would say in her Montana drawl. Not even any toilet paper. No soap. the only water was in the animals' drinking trough. Eww.

Kim decided. If--or when--or whatever--they got back to Middleton, she was so going to carry a bottle of liquid hand sanitizer in her book bag--maybe even moistened wipes--for whenever--and whatever--they were needed.

She would have to ask Melandra about this while they were alone.

While Ron was gravitating toward Turnskillet, Kalderion and Rimduffle conferred.

"When Sinewyn said that the Lion had summoned humans, I expected warriors--like Corrin of Archenland--or at least adults--like King Frank. Not little whelps like Digory Kirke and Polly Plummer--like these two," said Kalderion disgustedly.

"They are barely weaned," said Rimduffle. "The smallest wolf of the Witch's secret police would swallow them in a single gulp." They traveled for a moment when he spoke again. "Still, there is the Prophecy--"

**When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone**

**Sits at Cair Paravel in throne**

**The evil time will be over and done**

"Yes," grumbled Kalderion. "The Children of Adam and Eve."

"Some of our wise men have said that the Children of Adam and Eve whom the Lion summons will be **literal children**--untainted by the sins of their elders."

Kalderion scowled. "Wise men! **Pah! All** the humans have the taint. There is but one wisdom in these days--keep a strong arm, a shrewd mind, and a true heart."

Rimduffle nodded. "Well spoken."

"Besides, there are four thrones at Cair Paravel. I am but a poor brutish centaur, but I count only two of these little ankle-biters."

"There is, of course, the **other** Prophecy--."

_**When the Winter is old**_

_**And hearts grow cold**_

_**Two shall come, never apart**_

_**Of two minds, but of one heart**_

And Kalderion said nothing--but looked even more grim.

Suddenly a tinkling of bells was heard behind them."Sinewyn-Melandra-Children-of-Adam-and-Eve! Sinewyn-Melandra-Children-of-Adam-and-Eve!" A high-pitched musical voice, like a flute, like a chime, was heard, and a flutter of tiny wings. "Sinewyn-Melandra-Chlldren-of-Adam-and-Eve!" It was racing behind them and overtook them.

All heads raised. Sinewyn smiled and cocked his head. "Freya? Freya Lacewing? Where are you, little friend?"

"You-mentioned-a-book! "You-mentioned-a-book!" She was small as one of the children's hands. She had curly red hair, arching eyebrows, and pointed ears. Gossamer dragonfly wings protruded from her shoulders. She wore something like a green tunic that left her arms bare and reached to her mid-thigh. Another just like her was with her--except for the shimmering golden hair.

"Freya Lacewing!" exclaimed Sinewyn. "Have you been spying again?"

"Well," the little creature said apologetically, "I listened."

"My friend is too inquisitive," said her companion in another lyrical voice like chimes.

"A couple fairies?" Ron said, surprised.

"Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve, it is my honor to introduce Freya Lacewing, and Safra Flutterleaf, both of the Fae. Freya and Safra, Prince Ronald and Princess Kimberly."

Freya and Safra curtseyed in mid-air. "Your-Magesties! Your-Highnesses! Noble-Sinewyn! We-heard-the-talk-in-the-woods! Children-of-Adam-and-Eve! Our-poor-selves-beg-to-go-with-you!"

Kim stared. "Wait. There are no fairies mentioned in the storybook."

Freya buzzed around Kim. "Yes-my-Lady! Yes-my-Lady! The-Book!"

Turnskillet leaned to Ron and confided. "Fae are excitable creatures. Words drop from their mouths like raindrops during a storm. Good for amusement. Bad for secrecy."

"Little Freya," said Sinewyn, "Of course you may accompany us. But the Book must remain secret." And he set a paw to his mouth to indicate silence.

Freya's eyes widened and she put her forefinger to her lips in imitation of Sinewyn. She flew around Kim's head one more time. "My Lady," she asked tentatively, "May your most humble servant perch upon your shoulder? Your hair is most wondrous fine and is a marvel to behold. My own head of hair is but a dull tuft of grass by comparison."

Kim shrugged. "Sure. Perch all you want."

And so it was the travelers gained new companions.

Kalderion turned his head and addressed the leopard gruffly. "Our cook speaks wisely. If the news of our journey is as widespread as the little one says, Sinewyn, the secrecy you so longed for may be utterly lost. We must be doubly on our guard for spies." It seemed that Sinewyn was the only one whom the Centaur thought worthy of conversing with as an equal.

Melandra sensed Kim's emotional distance and struck up conversation. She thought of Kim as a surrogate daughter.

"You are quite right when you surmised that there is no mention of the Fae--or 'fairies' as they are called in your world--in the accounts of Narnia. They are not native to this world. The place we met you both--by your House-Of-The-Tree--it is a meeting-place of sorts--a doorway. The boundaries of other worlds overlap at such places, and we behold wondrous things. My Sinewyn will explain all."

Kim nodded absently.

Melandra tried another tack. "Do you miss your family, little princess?"

Kim nodded. "Yes."

"Tell me about them."

And Kim became animated. "Well, my daddy builds rockets."

Melandra looked puzzled. "Rockets?"

Kim tried to explain. "Uh, things that fly. they're shaped like a tube. One end is pointed and the other end is on fire."

Melandra brightened with realization. "Ah. **Fireworks! **The dwarves used to build such things."

"Before the Witch," grumbled Rimduffle.

"I have heard tales of marvelous colored explosions and streamers of fire in the skies on nights of celebration," said the leopardess. "Before the Witch's Winter," she added sadly.

"The rockets my daddy builds are for people to fly in--up to outer space, and even other planets," said Kim proudly.

Sijnewyn and Melandra looked at each other.

"To fly among the stars and other worlds," mused Sinewyn.

"How accomplished the children of Adam are!" said Melandra.

"And yet how tragic their Fall."

At the mention of that, Kalderion took a slight notice of Kim and became more sullen. The two leopards took notice of Kalderion, looked at each other, but said nothing.

Kim continued. "My mom is a doctor. She does surgery on brains."

And Melandra again looked confused. "I know what a doctor is, but--."

"Surgery, my love. It is a healing art," explained Sinewyn. "They are able to cause one who is ill to sleep painlessly, while they skillfullly cut open the living body to repair an injury or a defect."

"And your mother repairs the living brain of another, Daughter of Eve?" asked Melandra.

"Yes," answered Kim.

"You must be very proud of your parents, little one."

"I am." Kim smiled.

Freya was braiding strands of Kim's hair, and then combing them out again with her fingers. It seemed that Kim had found an admirer. She didn't mind. Her mother did the same things at home (as Kim felt a pang of homesickness) that Freya and Melandra did here--talk with her and fuss with her hair. Sometimes Ron even played with her hair--while they were in the treehouse, not at school. It would have destroyed her cred with the bullies and made him more vulnerable. Kim began to feel that maybe being with Turnskillet and his brother was a good thing for Ron's self-image as a male. His father sometimes tried, but he was not the kind of man to "hang out". Kim was Ron's only constant companion. And that bothered her now and then. But right now she missed the constant companionship.

Ron, on the other hand, had found an audience besides Kim. That hardly happened in Middleton, so he thoroughly enjoyed the attention here in Narnia. But he was feeling inferior again as Kim recounted the accomplishments of her parents.

"And what of your parents, Son of Adam?" asked Sinewyn of Ron, as he sensed the change in mood.

Ron hedged. His parents didn't begin to compare with Kim's for exciting occupations, in his opinion. "Well, my mom is a bank teller."

Sinewyn started having mental images of riverbanks or snowbanks and storytellers at the campfire--someone perched on a riverbank telling stories. He smiled to himself. It was from being around the Children of Adam and Eve--this trick of envisioning literal images of what they talked about. He took delight in it. He looked at Melandra, who was staring bewildered at Ron. Obviously she was having the same mental images

"A--teller of stories, Son of Adam?" asked Melandra.

"No, dearest," said Sinewy quietly. "Like a moneylender--a usurer. The humans take their coinage to such folk for safekeeping--and sometimes borrow when they need extra."

"The dwarves have such things also," said Turnskillet.

"Those who cannot earn honest livings for themselves," muttered Rimduffle.

Melandra shot Rimduffle a stern glance.

Ron continued. "And my dad is an act--act," he stuttered.

"Actuary," said Kim, promptly.

Ron looked hurt for a moment, as thought Kim had interrupted something **he** was going to say.

And Melandra looked confused again. "Actual--ary?"

Like a dictionary, Kim rattled off the definition. "A statistician who calculates the odds and risks any given situation and computes insurance premiums."

Ron loved his friend, but sometimes her superior attitude bothered him as much as his slowness and lack of study bothered her.

Melandra looked perplexed.

"Like a scrivener, my dear," said Sinewyn, "An accountant. They analyze and evaluate the risks and dangers associated with any given vocation. They assign values to that vocation and the possessions and dwelling place of a household."

And Melandra was absolutely baffled.

"It is a matter if indemnity. If the lord--or lady-- of the household suffers misfortune and cannot provide for their family. they are guaranteed an income--a means of procuring food, clothing and shelter."

Melandra laughed. "You three make my head spin. I will limit myself to simpler matters--like defending my little cubs from the servants of the White Witch." She nudged Kim

And Kim blushed, and unconsciously put her hand on Melandra's haunch.

"As I said," whispered Rimduffle to Kalderion, "Those who cannot earn honest livings for themselves."

As they walked along, little gusts of wind formed swirls of the fallen leaves. And some of the swirls of leaves formed outlines that looked human--shapes of women! The women-shapes curtsied toward Kim and Ron.

"Uh--are we seeing ghosts, Sinewyn?" asked Ron.

Ron was sounding freaked out, thought Kim. She didn't blame him in this case.

"These are Dryads--nymphs," said Sinewyn. "The spirits of the trees--doing honor to the Daughter of Eve and the Son of Adam."

One of the Dryads spoke. "My Lord Sinewyn--my Lady Melandra--we welcome your party to our grove."

'Athalia, Daughter of the Birch," said Sinewyn, "We acknowledge your warm welcome and the honor you do us. Allow me to present the Princess Kimberly and the Prince Ronald."

"Permit me, honored ones," said Athalia, "To escort you through this part of the wood."

"It is so permitted, Athalia," said Sinewyn.

Athalia's gown had a white sheen, dappled with dark spots and lines, like birch bark. Her skin was likewise white. Her hair was a cool green, like birch leaves. "The Children of Adam and Eve. For many ages such folk have not appeared here." She curtseyed before Ron and shyly lifted her eyes.

Ron was somewhat startled. Athalia's eyes were as bright green as Kim's.

Athalia followed behind Ron. Her hair rustled like leaves in a breeze. And her feet likewise rustled when she walked lightly over the grass. _A Son of Adam,_ she thought. _And so hansome. With hair of gold and eyes as deep brown as the wood of an oak._

It was said the the human children of of King Frank and Queen Helen had married native Narnians--not the Talking Animals, but the more Human--looking Tree and Water Beings. _He is so young, _Athalia told herself, _but in a few years--who can say?_

And so the little party grew.

Ron drifted back to Sinewyn at one point. "Sinewyn--I get that Turnskillet is our cook, and you're all along to escort us to the see--the, uh, Lion--but it seems like a couple of you guys are royally tweaked with us.

"You refer to Rimduffle and Kalderion."

"Yeah. What K.P. and I have read--I mean--heard of Narnia, the good guys are all happy and stuff, and the bad guys are the ones who want to--."

"--Take other peoples' heads off," finished Kim, looking a little irritatedly at Ron. "You gotta understand--it takes Ron a while to get to the point."

"What she said," said Ron.

Sinewyn explained to Kim and Ron, "Rimduffle is a warrior--and a metalworker. Sometimes his ways are gruff and his manners unpolished. It is his purpose to protect--and to prepare armor and weapons fit for a Prince to wield."

"A Prince? Armor? Weapons? Me? Like a knight?" said Ron, surprised.

"All will be explained by the Lion, Blessed is He," said Sinewyn, with a wink

And both children felt a thrill, of both delight and terror.

"But what's the deal with Kalderion?" asked Ron.

Melandra appeared thoughtful, and Sinewyn became very quiet. "And Kalderion--the ancestor of his house served King Frank. The Lord of the House of Goldenmane bound all his decentants with a vow. '_I and the sons of my body will serve the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve for as long as the Lion allows my lineage to prosper.' _Until the end of time."

"Why does he seem to hate humans?" Kim asked.

The leopards glanced at each other. They acted evasive.

"Some stories, my young cubs," said Sinewyn, "Are best heard when a mind has toughened and a heart learns endurance. When you are less tender--all will be revealed in the Lion's good time."

Kim and Ron looked at each other with a sense of foreboding. They were reminded that trips to Narnia were not like trips to an amusement park. Lives were at stake, and sometimes lives were lost.

And then Ron asked that was so insightful that it made everyone sit up and take notice. "Guys--if this is Narnia, and the White Witch is supposed to have cast the spell that made it always winter and never Christmas--where's the snow?"

Turnskillet nodded in appreciation.

Rinduffle raised an eyebrow in grudging respect.

And even Kalderion glanced back over his shoulder.

Kim beamed at Ron in admiration. And the two shared a look of mutual love and respect. And for a moment it seemed that all was well, and the friendship restored.

"Your question is well asked, Son of Adam," said Sinewyn. "Let us walk up this small hillock. There we will take our midday meal, and I will show you your answer."

They topped the small rise of ground.

Athalia clapped her hands. "Dryads! My sisters! Let us bring forth such choice items of victuals as would befit royalty--for today royalty dines with us!"

Tuenskillet turned to Ron. "It seems that we are guests of the Dryads, friend Ronald. For at least one occasion, I do not have to cook. I need only sit down at table and eat."

They were led to a great circular slab of rock. It was supported by a mound of raised earth under it--like a large dining table. Around it were small cubical mounds of packed earth, like stools.

"Hey," blurted Ron, this is just like the Stone Table." He was pleased with himself. He remembered something he had read about--tthe Stone Table.

There was a deafening silence. Every eye stared at him.

Ron felt very conspicuious. He cleared his throat. "Uhh--did I pass gas--or say something wrong?"

Kim realized with a sinking heart what was wrong with what he said. She covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head.

"Son of Adam," said Sinewyn soberly, "This of course is not the Stone Table. That is found far away from here."

Melandra spoke quietly to Sinewyn. "Dearest--he does not realize what he said. He does not know what the Stone Table is for." And she turned to Ron. "Dear Heart--ages ago the Stone Table was a memorial. it is now deep within the realm of the White Witch. She uses it for her unholy sacrifices--an altar. She finds those who she calls traitors and slays them on it."

Ron's jaw dropped. he hung his head and mumbled. "Sorry, guys. Um, my bad." He felt awful. He understood how they felt about the Table. It was a sign of the Witch's evil reign, and the horrible punishment she dealt out to her enemies. There was another destiny for the Stone Table--but it was in the storybook--and Sinewyn had forbidden Kim and Ron to speak of it.

Melandra raised her voice. "The young Prince was eager to show what he knew of our land--to make us feel that he was not completely ignorant of our ways. He wished to feel less of a stranger. He was not aware of how the Witch has perverted it. He spoke foolishly--but sincerely, without malice. Without speaking, he shows us his regret Without asking, he shows his longing to be pardoned. Let us therefore overlook his mistake and assure him of our love and regard for him."

Athalia stroked Ron's hair with her hand.

The two Fae buzzed around his head.

"Yes--young--Prince," said Freya. "Receive our love."

"And--forgive--us--our--insensitivity," said Safra.

Turnskillet slapped Ron gently on his back. "Come, my friend. Sit next to me as us dine together. A shared meal will be a sign of our shared friendship."

Ron bit his lip. His eyes swam with unshed tears.

Kim's heart reproached her for disregarding Ron earlier. Of course--he was as homesick as she was. His friendliness with Turnskillet instead of her was his effort to get past that homesickness. It was so hard for him to make friends back in Middleton. She was probably his only close friend. She slipped an arm around his shoulder. "Hey, remember--we're still tight."

Ron returned the embrace. "Thanks, K.P.," he mumbled. "Tthanks, everybody. I'll try and think before I talk from now on."

Kim nudged him. "As if," she teased. "And I'll try and not get tweaked."

Ron nudged Kim back. "As if," he teased back. "Like that'll ever happen."

Kim jabbed Ron. "You freak!" she teased.

And Ron jabbed Kim. "Hey! Tryin' to start a tickle fight with the Ron-ster?"

The leopards smiled. So did the Fae. And Turnskillet.

And the Dryads--except Athalia. _Little snipe_, she told herself. _I see through her as easily as the air. She is as fickle as the weather at the change of seasons._

Sinewyn spoke up. "The son of Grimble wisely reminds us--a meal awaits us. Let us go and eat."

And they all gathered around the table.

Dryads came with wooden bowls of water for each guest, and a towel over their arm.

"For washing our hands," said Melandra quietly. Dryads are very concerned with cleanliness.

_At last_, thought Kim. _**Somebody**__ gets it._

Sinewyn nudged Rimduffle. "Dwarves, too, my friend."

Rimduffle grumbled, but dipped his hands in the water and dried them.

Sinewyn and Melandra washed their forepaws--and sat at the table on the earthen stools--like those who stood on two legs.

Kim and Ron stared with some amazement.

"Yes, Dear Hearts," said Melandra. "Even we Talking Animals can dine like Children of Adam and Eve when the occasion calls for it."

Numerous Dryads appeared carrying large wooden platters and pitchers.

All the food was fruit or vegetable--no meat. But it was delicious.

Many different kinds of soup--bean, noodle, cream of tomato, cream of potato, meatless minestrone--al with broth thick enough to stand up a spoon in. Freshly baked bread. Pies of every kind--cherry, apple, blueberry, pumpkin, rhubarb. Cakes with chunks of candied fruit. Carrot cake. Corn on the cob. Stacks of pancakes with maple syrup--and blueberry syrup--and apple syrup. Even the plain fruit--apples, peaches, pears--ran with juice at the first bite.

"Athalia?" asked Ron, "What's this stuff that looks like cheese?" It appeared in several forms on the table--sliced, block, grated."

"It is made from soy, Son of Adam," said Athalia.

**"Soy?"** said Ron, amazed. "We got cheese substitute made of soy back home, but it tastes like tree bark."

Athalia laughed merrily. The sound was melodic. "That is not very flattering to a Dryad, Ronald."

Others noticed, especially Kim. Not "Prince Ronald"--just "Ronald".

Athalia's green eyes rested upon Ron with enrapt gaze. And Kim's green eyes stared daggers at Athalia.

Loaves of bread hollowed out served as bowls. Flat loaves served as plates.

"Badical," said Ron to Kim. "We can eat the dishware."

"Exactly," said Turnskillet.

Kim rolled her eyes. _Leave it to a couple cooks to get excited over edible dishes_.

At last the meal was done. Dryads came and cleared the table.

"Now, Children of Adam and Eve," said Sinewyn, "Come with me, and I will show you the Narnian winter, as I promised." He led them to the crest of the hillock.

"Turn your eyes to the the east, Son of Adam and Daughter of Eve." There was a band of white at the edge of the horizon. "That is Narnia proper. What you see is the Lantern Waste. Beyond is the home of the White Witch."

Now_ that_ was useful. Way to go, Ron, thought Kim admiringly. She was remembering the book that mentioned the place name. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

"And to the north," continued Sinewyn, "Is the Northern Waste, land of the giants. It is said another Witch dwells there, the Emerald Witch, or the Lady of the Green Kirtle, as she is called. Is she a daughter of Lilith, also from Charn? We do not know. The Lion, Blessed is He, has not told us. And she does not seek a contest with Jadis for mastry for Narnia. Did they meet when Jadis fled north to seek refuge? Again, we do not know."

Kim remembered. The Silver Chair. And she felt a sinking dread. The prospect of meeting _two_ Witches unnerved her--like Dorothy having to stress over Wicked Witches in both the East and West of Oz--but Ron and the others didn't seem concerned. _This is so like home,_ Kim thought. _I'm the one who has to deal with things, and Ron just shows up when he feels like it!_

To the south is the Calormene Empire, ruled by the Tisroc--."

Kim remembered: A Horse and His Boy. It was a desert land.

"--And to the far east is Telmar, settled by renegade pirates from the world of Adam and Eve."

And Kim remembered: Prince Caspian. Her mind whirled. She felt dizzy. Names popped into her head from what she remembered reading: _Miroz, Bree, Tirian, Rillian, Caspian, Shasta_. If she and Ron had arrived to Narnia _before_the Pevinses--as Ron had suggested--then all these names belonged to the future. _What were they doing here?_

"But to the near east is the land toward which we make our trek," said Sinewyn. "It is the Little Land of Refuge. It is the Sanctuary of the LIon's Name."

Ron felt a great burning in his mind and heart. He felt a great urge to speak. And so he opened his mouth--

--And surprised himself and everyone there.

"Can any place hold the Lord of Hosts, for Whom the heavens are too small? But He has chosen a place for His Name to dwell."

And everyone stared at him.

"That is precisely the point, Son of Adam," said Sinewyn.

Kalderion snorted. "What sort of claptrap is this? What is the significance of the mumblings from the mouth of a human cub?"

"It is from a Holy Book found on the World of Humans, friend Kalderion. It speaks of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea. He is too great to be contained in the entire heavens and earth. But in the history of Prince Ronald's people, a Human King named Solomon built a Temple for the Presence of the Creator to be found in--a place to be called by His Name, as when a King who dwells in his palace visits a far province in his kingdom and holds court at a certain place. There he hold audience and the people come to present their petitions before him."

Ron looked suprised. "**I **said all **that**?"

"This Son of Adam has the Spirit of the Lion upon him," said Melandra.

"I quite agree," said Sinewyn. "He--and she--have greater ability than they know--but it must be molded and tested by fire--like metal under Rimduffle's hammer and forge."

"Ron--**that rocked**! That was _badical!" _said Kim.

"Ah--it was no big."

"No--seriously. I'm kinda jelling. Usually I think of stuff like that."

Ron grinned bashfully. "Yeah. It _does_ feel kinda special to sound like I'm halfway smart sometimes."

"Halfway? Did you see how everyone looked at you? Even Kalderion! But how did you know about what Sinewyn said? King Solomon and the Temple?"

Ron looked half amused and half indignant. "K.P. Hel**-lo**. I'm Jewish. Same Old Testament as you guys. After all, I **am **studying for Bar Mitsvah."

Kim looked sheepish. "You're right. Sorry."

"Eh--no big."

And so they left the hillock, and the place of the Dryads. Athalia continued with them.

Sinewyn and Melandra, Freya and Safra, and Turnskillet looked pleased. Kim and Ron walked together in the afternoon. The friendship was mending.

Kaderion and Rimduffle were uninterested.

Athalia sulked.

But at suppertime it all came apart.

Ron was talking with Turnskillet at the pot while Kim was setting the places. "C'mon, genius, gimme a hand," she said.

"I'm busy," Ron said. "I've been busy all day."

"Yeah," Kim said, "Busy talking. C'mon, Son of Adam and Prince of Narnia, the Daughter of Eve and Princess of Narnia could so use your help. Remember, we all got off easy at lunch."

"I've been carrying stuff," said Ron with a huff.

"I've been carrying stuff, too," said Kim with an admonishing tone and accusing look.

And because Ron was feeling so self-assured, he did something he wouldn't normally do--he talked back to Kim. "All you're carrying is the backpack with the book."

It wasn't true, of course. Kim always did more than her share, whether at school, or at home. Anr Ron knew that, but he felt annoyed at Kim's blossoming tweak. "S'matter, Kim? Jealous that I'm the smarter one today? Feeling deprived? You're not conceited, are you?"

Kim felt hurt. And she did something she normally wouldn't do--she unleashed a bit of her savage wit and spoke to Ron as she would normlly have spoken to a bully. "Look who's calling _me_ conceited! Mr. Stuck-on-himself!"

And Ron, feeling more hurt, tried to outdo her in the battle of wits. "Well at least I'm not stuck on my hair--or my clothes." It sounded lame. Then he stole a glance at the dwarves. Boys--whether they were ten years old, or a hundred years old--did or said whatever they had to--to avoid looking weak and defenseless in front of their male peer group. So Ron blurted out, "K.P.--did you sit on a bush? 'Cause you got a stick up your butt."

Ron was not as subtle as Kim. What Kim said was meant to cut. What Ron said was also meant to cut, but because he did not have Kim's skill, and because Kim's feelings were closer to the surface, Ron's words did not cut-they knocked her flat. And so what Kim said next was out of the extremity of her hurt.

"I hate you."

Ten-year-olds, especially girls, often said things they did not really mean. But once a thing is said, it cannot be unsaid. Tempers accelerated and the situation deteriorated.

"Maybe I should have let 'em steal your ball at Pre-K," said Ron sullenly.

Resentment welled up in Kim's heart. "I don't know why I bother defending you!"

"I don't know why I bothered inviting you to the treehouse!" countered Ron.

"I should have gone to Charlie Cheddar's, like Mom wanted me to--and invited my friends!"

As is the way of friends who feel lost and lonely, they wanted to feel warm and safe and loved. And they desperately wanted to feel the comfort from each other. But they thought that hurt each felt in his or her heart as caused by the other person.

And it was reduced to bickering--saying something for the sake of saying something--something to hurt the other person, because each one was hurt. A parent would've understood & looked beyond the bickering. But they were only children--and Children of Adam and Eve, at that--children of a very hurt and fallen race.

"Well, I wouldn't have come!" said Ron

"Well, I wouldn't have invited you!" said Kim back.

"The I would've come anyway!" said Ron back.

"Your mom probably wouldn't let you come" said Kim back.

"That is so like you!" said Ron back.

"That is so not true!" said Kim. "I should have let Arnie Custer beat you up!" She referred to a meeting with a bully in first grade.

"You just think you're better than me!" said Ron. "I should have let Stevie Weiss give you a black eye!" He referred to meeting a bully after first grade--but that is another story.

Sinewyn glared at the two. His fatherly instinct was to cuff them both, as he used to do when his cubs were especially naughty.

"No, my love. Do not interfere," cautioned Melandra.

"But this will ruin all!" protested Sinewyn.

"Well--you just think you're--" Kim trailed off.

"Say it, Kim!" said Ron accusingly.

"I can't,"

"We both know it's true. You're better than me and I'm worse than you." Ron stalked away.

"Ron! I wasn't going to say that! You just_ think _you're worse than me! Ron...**Ron**_..._!" Kim just stood there, hands at her side, lower lip quivering, big tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.

Supper was eaten in uncomfortable silence. Kim huddled next to Melandra.

Ron sat opposite her, on the other side of the campfire.

When they bedded down, Ron remained with the Dwarves and Centaur. "Son of Adam--are you not going to spend the night in slumber with your friend?" asked Turnskillet.

"I'm already with my friend," said Ron crossly.

Turnskillet shrugged. "The ground here is as hard as anywhere else," he said. "You are welcome. And there air is the same here--unless my brother or the noble Kalderion breaks wind."

"If a Centaur broke wind, you all would be blown beyond the horizon," said the surly Centaur.

And there was an outbreak of raucous laughter among the group.

Kim snuggled with Melandra.

It was their first day away from home, and it had not gone well. They were in Narnia--but it was not really Narnia. She was a fairy-tale princess, but felt like an abandoned orphan. They were in the fairy-tail land, and her friendship with Ron was not fixed. She wished she would have taken her parents' suggestion and had a party with her friends at Charlie Cheddar's. She wondered if she would have invited Ron. Ron probably wished he were in the treehouse. She wondered if Ron would have invited her to sleep in the treehouse, if he could have looked ahead.

"Melandra," lamented Kim, "Why do I behave this way? Ron's my best friend. Why am I such a little meany?"

"I do not know, Daughter of Eve," soothed Melandra. "But sometimes the people we most love are those with whom we are the most harsh. Be comforted, little kitten. He knows you love him."

Kim looked around at the Fae and the Dryad. "Guys, if you don't mind, I just want Melandra around."

Freya bowed and flew up into the higher branches of the tree overhead.

Athalia, however, left in a huff _The Princess. The Daughter of Eve. Acting like a spoilt brat. Treating her friend so shabbily. And too good for the likes of a common Dryad._

"Goodnight sweet Princess," said Freya. The flutter of her wings and the thrum of Melandra's purr soon put Kim to sleep. And she felt safe under the warmth of Melandra's blue-eyed gaze.

Had Athalia but known, the soft breeze rustling the leaves of her hair might have had the same effect. As it was, she became immobile--like a tree--beside the dwarves--and set her gaze upon Ron all night.

_**Far to the east...**_

...across the border of Narnia, across the snowbound Lantern Waste, across a frozen lake, beyond two hills, stood a picturesque structure. With towers, turrets, and a courtyard--like a fairytale dwelling. Too large for a house, too small for a castle.

A wolf slunk along the wall, peering out to whiteness that stretched into the distance.

He heard a growling behind him. "Growrgh!"

He jumped and whipped around, ears flattened, hackles raised. "Captain Fangdrip! It's you! By the Devils of Charn, I almost pissed myself!"

A huge wolf with grizzled fur appeared from the shadows, chuckling evilly. "Hah! That'll teach you to be alert, Maugrim--even here at home!"

Maugrim tilted his head questioningly. "Captain--where's Her Majesty the Queen?

Our Mistress is out hunting--for Children of Adam and Eve."

"For humans? We haven't seen Telmarines here in years. They were delicious, if I recall."

"Not marauding Telmarines, Maugrim. Or the accursed Archenlanders. Or even the burnt-skin Calormenes. I mean actual children. Human cubs. She is troubled in her dreams of late."

"You mean the Prophecy--the coming of the Lion." And Maugrim recited, half to himself.

**When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone**

**Sits at Cair Paravel in throne**

**The evil time will be over and done**

"I wouldn't recite that more than once in a lifetime, Maugrim," warned Fangdrip. "It will shorten your life considerably. Even these stone figures have ears. You will find yourself here in the courtyard--turned into a statue by Her Majesty's wand. Or on the Stone Table--and your head--or pelt--on the wall of the Queen's throne room. Furthermore--remember this also--refer to **Him**--" the wolf growled and spat. "--As the Great Cat."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	5. Chapter 5: conflict among friends

whitem, Wolfinson, Hermione Solo, MrDrP, Donteatacowsman--your praise warms my heart.

Donteatacowsman, sorry to be so graphic. Guess, in all candor, that's kinda my intent. I still think what I wrote is quite clean compared to other fic's.

LTAOZFAN, you're as much an Oz savant as I am a Narnia savant. Conventional folk may tell us to get a life--but I feel ya, dude.

Will Kim and Ron meet the Pevensie children? The four who will be seated on the Thrones of Cair Paravel? Read chpt 5--& tell me what you think.

My writing reflects C.S. Lewis? Now THAT'S high praise.

Now some notes.

The date for the founding of the Kingdom of Archenland is from a Narnian chronology I found at Fact Monster.

The stuff in the story about the robber barons of the Telmarines? That's my own guesswork. But it could be argued that that's how they ran things, if you study how they were portrayed in Prince Caspian. The stuff about the large families of lazy and ambitious royals in Calormen? Referred to in A Horse and His Boy. The Tisrocs tended to be possessive of their throne, and kept it as long as they could, even putting to death any son of the family who became old enough to challange them. Obviously, the day would come when they would be too old to rule, and then one of the up-and-coming royal kids would take them out. But if you look at large royal families in both European and Asiatic history, that often happened.

The part of Narnian history where the Giants get driven north? Found in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

The appearance of the oak Dryads? My own invention.

I've cooked up a name for the Lady of the Green Kirtle, who appears in The Silver Chair. But I'll lay that on you another in chpt.

Just a side note here. (I was a history major in college.) King Herod--in the Bible--the guy who tried to off Baby Jesus and ending up ordering the massacre of all the infants in Bethlehem--worked that way. He had his oldest sons executed as they grew up. Obviously the guy didn't play favorites. Whether it was his own kid, or a stranger, he would not hesitate to have a rival put to death. (P.S. He had his Queen, Marianme, killed too. Real nice guy. Unfortunately, as the Christian teachers tell us, until the day comes when Jesus--Who's not a kid in the stable anymore--comes back to set up His eternal kingdom, we're sometimes stuck with rulers like Herod. And that's my Bible thumping for today. Any spiritual lessons I impart for the rest of the story will be given like C.S. Lewis gave it--symbolically, through the characters. )

Can't help it. Gotta philosophize. As I think about it, modern dictators work a lot like ancient tyrants--only the political party has taken the place of the royal family. They put all their posse in positions of power--and then have to fight them off when they get ambitious. Coups, purges, liquitations, martial law. Whatever else is wrong with democracies, you gotta admit, govermnemt Of the People, By the People, and For the People (Abe Lincoln quote, thank you) tends not to have such violent regime changes. God grant that it always remain so.

The roster of Characters (both portrayed and referred to)

Kim & Ron, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley.

Pixie Scouts, created by Mark McCorkle and Bob Schooley.

The Lion, Blessed is He, created by C.S. Lewis

Jadis, the White Witch, created by C.S. Lewis

The Lady of the Green Kirtle, created by C.S. Lewis

The Tisroc, and the Calormene Empire, created by C.S. Lewis

Archenland, created by C.S. Lewis

Telmar, created by C.S. Lewis

The northern kingdom of the Giants, created by C.S. Lewis

Sinewyn and Melandra, the leopards, created by me

Rimduffle and Turnskillet, the Dwarves, created by me

Kalderion Goldenmane, the Centaur, created by me

Freya Lacewing and Safra Flutterleaf, the Fae, created by me

Athalia, birch tree Dryad, created by me

BY THE WAY--did you spot the original Narnia character in my last chpt.? It was Maugrim, the wolf, a member of the White Witch's Secret Police.

On With The Show.

_**CHPT. 5**_

Athalia the birch girl stood like the tree she belonged to all night. She could, if she wanted, lie down and sleep like a mortal. Or she could take her rest like a tree, falling asleep for months at a time, an entire season. At those times, she would merge with her tree.

She watched the two Dwarves as they snored. She watched the mighty Centaur. He too could sleep standing, like a horse, or curled up on the ground.

Like all Centaurs, he slept light, and was awake much of the night. She could glance over and see the glitter of the starlight in his great dark eyes. Centaurs were very vigilant, especially those of the House of Anamalek, sworn to serve the Royal Family of Narnia, and to be the Lion's crack troops. But there had been no Royal Family in Narnia for many years--perhaps centuries. The old stories did not indicate how long.

There were others who kept track of such things. The Dryads of the oak trees appeared as sybells, robed and hooded, with aged faces and silver hair, like the old wise women of the desert tribes in Calormen. They and the scholars of the Dwarves kept alive the knowledge and history of the land.

There was a Royal Family in Calormen. The Tisroc and his harem, which produced a veritable tribe of princes and princesses. Some merely lived a life of useless luxury, supported by the overtaxed common people. Some had royal ambitions, which gave rise to numerous civil wars, a thing unknown in Narnia.

There was a Royal Family in Archenland, the small border kingdom between Narnia and the Calormene Empire, Narnia's ally since before the keeping of records. They were founded by Cor, young son of King Frank V, two centures after the birth of Narnia. So they were kin to long died-out family of King Frank and Queen Helen. But Kanderion had no interest in Archenland. What he felt for Archenlanders was quite the opposite of friendship--for his own reasons.

To the west, the Telmarines, decendents of human pirates and brigands, had no single ruler. Each robber baron had his own castle and army of uncouth soldiers, who served him as long as the pay was good.

To the north, were the kingdoms of the giants, and the Lady of the Green Kirtle. They existed side by side, and did not bother each other. But neither realm was particularly friendly to Narnia.

The Giants had their own Royal Family. Once, after the Lion had brought Narnia to life and blessed the Talking Animals with speech and understanding, the Giants had lived in Narnia, loyal soldiers serving side by side with the Centaurs. But Jadis had sent her agents among the Giants, sowing suspicion of the Humans and the Talking Animals. They started thinking like Jadis--rulership belonged to those who could seize it and hold it, and tyrannize the weak. The old belief in rule by justice and fairness fell into disuse among them, and so over many generations and wars, the Narnian armies had driven the Giants north, to the cold wastes.

The Lady of the Green Kirtle? She was a witch, the rumors went, like Jadis, immortal. Travellers who went north rarely returned, so no one could confirm the tale.

The two leopards slept as all cats do, in snatches of sleep. Sinewyn rose several times throughout the night and padded noiselessly around the perimeter of the camp. He acknowledged both the Centaur and the Dryad with a not as he passed.

The two Fae slept blanketed by large leaves

The Daughter of Eve cuddled next to Melandra, who did not move. She often gazed affectionately on the child.

And the Son of Adam, upon whom Athalia had set her heart? He slept like a stone all night, sometimes snoring as loudly as the Dwarves

Overhead, the stars wheeled. At last the sky in the east grew pink. The birds twittered.

"Good morning, Ronald," said Athalia the Dryad brightly.

"Mornin', Athalia," . He sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes.

Ron awoke not feeling good. Physically, he felt fine--refreshed--strengthened. Good food, good company, brisk travel, the clean sweet air. Emotionally, he was a wreck. He had hurt Kim's feelings--deliberately. He felt like crap.

His recall of the Holy Scriptures were razor sharp. Yesterday, when Sinewyn was telling about the Land of Refuge where the Name of the Lion was, Ron had rattled off the Bible verse about God's dwelling place--how he was too big for Heaven, but how He chose the Temple built by Solomon for His Presence to live and His Name to be found--sort lf like a mailing address.

Rabbi Katz, back in Middleton, back in the world of the Children of Adam and Eve, would've been proud. His father, Abe Stoppable, who was a cantor for Temple Beth-Baruch, would have been proud.. His mother, Rachel, who withstood the scorn of Abe's mother for keeping her house so disheveled, like a _farshluginer_, would've been proud.

But today Ron was not proud of his razor sharp recall. He was remembering things from his class with Rabbi Katz--from the Law and the Prophets.

From the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy:

11 Beware that you forget not the Lord your God,

12 Lest when you have eaten and are full, 

14 Then your heart be lifted up, and you forget the Lord your God,

From the sixth chapter of the book of the prophet Micah:

He has shown you, oh man, what is good. What does the Lord require of you but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?

Ron had not done justly with Kim or treated her with mercy. He had not walked humbly--with God or anyone else.

As he dwelt upon the memory of his behavior, his discomfort only increased.

He felt like he was All That yesterday afternoon. His insightful question. He felt smart. And his heart got "lifted up".

He even remembered:

Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

And Ron had to think hard to remember where he had heard that. _On yeah. At Kim's church---_

And his eyes widened in realization and astonishment.

_Waitaminute! That's from the Gospels! __**New Testament, too?**_

Ron glanced up at the sky in chagrin and dismay.

_Hey, God--can't You cut me some slack? It's me! Ron! Not a prophet! Not a saint! Just some kid! _

Kim did not sleep well. She closed her eyes and tried to make the sleep come. But in a few minutes, she would open her eyes and see the sky was still dark. The night was so long. But she felt warm and safe, nestled between the two leopards, Melandra and Sinewyn. and the stars overhead were so bright and sparkling. And there was a disturbing dream...

She watched the stars fade and the sky gradually lighten--the color became a cold gray and then a rosy color. Did she want the night to end, or the morning to come? It hardly mattered. May as well wake up--except it was a day of walking ahead of her.

Melandra smiled. "Good morning, little kitten."

Kim realized as she sat up: She felt exhausted. She put her hand over to the book bag that held the huge leather volume with brass hinges and a brass latch--the book that contained the text of the Narnia book by C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew--the history of Narnia's creation, and its first human royal couple King Frank and Queen Helen, a former horse-and-coach driver from old London--and the two who represented the opposing forces, good and evil--the Lion, Who was the central character of the tales, Whose Name they could not say for some reason, and Jadis, who Sinewyn and the others kept referring to as the cruel Queen who cast the spell of nonstop winter on Narnia--which they weren't really even in. And the idea of a wicked White Witch somehow seemed distant, unreal.

"Little kitten, you slept poorly. What troubles you?" asked Melandra.

Kim hesitated. Usually it was Ron who was scared of insects, ghosts, scary books, scary movies--most things--and after yesterday's meltdown, she wanted to keep some appearance of her customary courage.

But Melandra's warm motherly blue eyes--so like Kim's mother--that compelled Kim to confide.

"I kept having dreams. A tall lady with white skin was looking for me. She wanted to stab me and feed me to her pet wolf."

Sinewyn perked up his ears. He drew near.

Melandra glanced at both Sinewyn and Kim. "Tell us, little kitten, what the lady looked like."

"She was pretty, but her face was scary. She looked mad. Her skin was white but her lips were red--like blood."

Melandra looked alarmed. "And what did the lady wear?"

"A long sparkly dress, like it had diamonds on it and a crown like broken glass--or iclicles."

Melandra and Sinewyn looked at each other. "It is **her**. She seeks the Children of Adam and Eve," said Melandra.

Sinewyn nodded. "She feels their presence. And she is putting forth her power, feeling for some trace of them." He raised his head and looked around. "We have been too lax. We must quicken our pace to reach our destination."

Breakfast was light, and eaten quickly--not like yesterday's banquets. Some bread, some cheese, a fruit, and water.

Athalia sat by Ron as he ate. She took the portion of bread from Turnskillet the Dwarf. She broke it into smaller pieced and gave them to Ron.

Ron was pleased, flattered, and embarrassed all at once. "Uh, thanks, Athalia."

"You're most welcome," said Athalia.

Kim noticed and rolled her eyes. _Athalia? Crushing on Ron? Ew. And __**feeding**__ him? Puh-leeze. So the obvious Why not just put him in a bib and high chair and spoon him his mashed veggies? Well, girl, you can __**have**__ him.! I've been carrying him and saving his butt since Pre-K!_

And Kim sat with Melandra in sullen silence, facing away from Ron.

Kim and Ron avoided each others' glance. And when camp broke, and they had to pass each other gathering the gear, they turned sideways to avoid touching each other. Subdued apopogies were muttered.

"S'cuse me."

"Pardon."

"Sorry."

"At least they're polite," whispered Melandra to Sinewyn.

"It does credit to them and their upbringing," whispered Sinewyn to Melandra. "Better than last night." But he looked into his consort's eyes. "Still--sometimes such polite chill is worse than open hostility." He shook his head with a very human display of exasperation. "These two are prophesied to rekindle hope and faith in our cold hearts. What hope have we if their own friendship crumbles---and they have no home or family to fall back on?"

"My love--remember the very words the Lion--Blessed is He--spoke to us. _"They will renew the Land, and the Land will renew them."_ He is all-knowing and all-wise. This trial of their friendship did not take Him by surprise. He would not have summoned them to Narnia if this were futile. We must not be like Jadis--or even our own Kalderion--such as who rely on their own strength and scorn lesser ones who appear so pitiful. It is the Lion's way to exalt the lowly and humble the proud."

"You speak wisely, my love," said Sinewyn. They rubbed on each other's head and purred, such as human spouses do with an affectionate kiss.

Athalia watched, and sighed. _ I must find an excuse to remain with them. Young Ronald seems shy. Perhaps I am too forward in my display of emotion--or not obvious enough._

Ron watched with an ache in his heart. _ It's not like K.P. is my girlfriend--but why is it so easy for a couple Talking Animals to be like--decent--and my best friend is like--not decent._ And he remembered that morning's Bible verses and his own behavior last night. _Oh, yeah. I acted like a real freak myself._

Kim also watched the leopards and was grieved with the distance she felt from her friend--until she noticed Athalia's fond gaze at Ron.

Nana Possible and other old people sometimes spoke in strange words and expressions from a long time ago. One popped into Kim's head--_making goo-goo eyes._ And Kim now realized what it meant. And she felt the tweak. _I'd like to put goo-goo in __**her**__ eyes--like tree sap. Maybe a woodpecker will come and put a hole in her head. Maybe a Talking Dog--or even an un-talking dog--will come along and pee on her leg--like it was a tree trunk._

And Kim found perverse comfort in picturing disasterous things that could happen to Athalia.

Athalia felt Kim's hostile gaze. She looked over her shoulder and returned it. The eyes of both girls narrowed.

Melandra watched her Little Kitten and the Dryad exchange their hateful looks. She sighed. _May the Lion, Blessed is He, guide our way._ Should she inform Sinewyn of this new trouble? No. He had enough to worry about with possible attacks from enemies. This was a matter for another female to deal with--if and when the time came.

And so the march began again for that day. But this time, Ron travelled further up front with Turnskillet, and Kim stayed further back, with Melandra and Sinewyn.

And Athalia followed Ron like a puppy.

Kalderion grumbled to Rimduffle. "I could have galloped to the Land of Refuge in half a day if it were not for these little sluggards hanging, as it were, from my tail."

And Rimduffle likewise groused. "And I could have reached the Land by now also, walking day and night. A little loss of sleep is nothing to a Dwarf. These Children of Adam and Eve have not a fraction the endurance of a Dwarf toddler!"

Melandra asked Kim, "Little Kitten, don't you want to walk with your friend?"

And Kim said, "I already am."

So Melandra's effort to join the two failed for the moment. And into the empty space moved Athalia.

Ron looked down at his feet as he walked. He was deep in thought. He wondered how to break the ice between Kim and himself. There was one thing he could say about Kim. She knew how to keep a Tweak--sometimes for as long as a week. And if she didn't feel like reconciling, no pleading on his part, or her parents' part, would hasten the process.

Athalia walked beside him. He didn't really mind. It felt kind of--_special._

Hanging out with the Dwarves was all cool and stuff, but his closest companion was a girl. Always had been. And even though Kim was the one more likely to play football, or race him, she had her femenine moments. A skirt. Bows in her hair. A frilly blouse. A touch of perfume. And Kim could bring a word to his mind that he hardly ever spoke aloud. _Girlfriend._

Ron and Kim had kissed when they were in Pre-K. But that was six years ago--ages ago to a ten year old. Since then, Kim was stuck on guys like Arnie Custer and Walter Nelson. Bigger. Older. Smarter Better looking. More athletic.

He glanced over at Athalia. There was no denying. She was _cute--once you got past the paper-white skin that had spots and lines on it--like birch bark--and her green hair--that looked flat, like leaves, instead of slender, like strands. And her eyes_

Ron stole a glance now and then at the birch girl's face. And when he did, he would see her stealing a glance at him. She would blink and smile shyly. Her teeth were as white as snow. And he would hurriedly snap his gaze back to the ground or the path ahead.

Were her eyes as green as Kim's? They might be even greener--like jewels--like green Christmas lights.

Ron felt the stirrings of young affection. His Gramma Hannah would call it "Puppy Love". As though it had anything to do with dogs.

When he first met Kim, there had been a hint of this giddy emotion. But it had disappeared under the plain friendship. Rock-solid friendship, to be sure. But Kim was more like a --brother? No, not quite that much like a sibling. But he definitely felt like one of the Tweabs, sometimes--except they were younger, came in a set of two, and dared to prank Kim without mercy.

He had seen the look on Kim's face often throughout grade school--and it was always for other boys. A shy glance across the classroom. Then sitting together in the cafeteria. Then holding hands during recess.

It was always a mystery to Ron how these crush things developed. Other guys seemed to have some secret power. They were able to say the right word at the right time, or do the right thing. Ron once tried it with the Rockwaller girl, Bonnie. Whew. He wouldn't make that mistake again. She chewed him up and spit him out. Then he tried with the Latino girl, Zita Flores. Hanging out with her. Trying to find common interests.

They did have a common interest--video gaming. But that didn't translate into the hand-holding thing. When Ron sort of tried it with Zita, she jumped, startled, and shouted something in Spanish. The kids laughed--and that was another thing Ron never tried again.

For a brief moment, Ron felt a disloyalty to his best friend--like the regret he was feeling right now over their estranged friendship. But he mulled it over. And he remembered almost the last words Kim had spoken to him yesterday.

_"I should have let Arnie Custer beat you up!"_

In all fairness, he was just as bad.

_"I should have let Stevie Weiss give you a black eye!" _

Shame filled him with the remembrance. Bullying a girl was a low-down, dispicable offense.

But, hey. K.P was on his case off and on since they had come to Narnia.

And so Ron decided--he would let this go as far as it would go. Some fantastically cute girl giving him the Look. So what if she wasn't human? That made it all the more exciting.

And what Athalia did next only confirmed the rightness of his decision.

Grade school crushes went in steps.

The first step was The Look. Okay--Athalia had taken the first step.

The next step was Talking. And this always mystified Ron. What do you say to seal the deal?

Again, from watching Kim and all the times she had her hand-holding boyfriends, he had come to a conclusion: he couldn't tell the right thing to say to save his life.

But Athalia took that step, too. She broke the ice.

"Tell me about yourself, Ronald. What are your likes? Your dislikes? Your hobbies?"

_She's asking about me and what I'm interested in? Badical!_

But this required careful handling.

Mom had always said:_ Don't try to be something you're not. People will like you for yourself._

_Yeah, Mom. As if._

Still, he had to give some kind of answer. So he opened his mouth and let it come out. "I like to watch TV."

Athalia responded the way Melandra did when some human thing perplexed her. Her head tilted and her eyebrows furrowed.

And Ron had to admit. It looked a lot cuter on Athalia than on Melandra.

Several paces behind, Kim rolled her eyes again. She had been following the conversation with considerable scorn. _Ron! This is not twenti-first century Middleton._

"TV, Ronald? Please forgive me. I am only a birch girl, and have hardly traveled beyond my own grove. Could you explain it to me?

Once again, Kim rolled her eyes. _Please! So the manip!_

It was something every girl knew. Nothing drew a guy like acting helpless. Kim had done it herself. _Okay, 'Ronald'. Tell an enchanted girl in an enchanted land what 'TV' is._

Ron thought for a moment. "Well--have you ever seen a play, Athalia?"

Athalia looked quizzical. "A--play?"

"Where people are pretending to be other characters. They're acting out a story for people to watch."

Athalia's face lit up. "Actors! Drama! Yes, Ronald! I know exactly what you mean!"

"Well--TV is like that--only instead of watching the people who are really there, it's like a box with a moving picture of people from far away."

Kim was flabbergasted. Everyone else was impressed.

Ron had done it--he had explained TV.

"So the Children of Adam and Eve have found a way to send images over distance. How is this done, Ronald? By magic?"

Ron shrugged. "They call it electronic signals--and that's all I know about it. It's something an adult would have to explain."

Kim was goggled-eyed. Ron had pulled off admitting ignorance and humility at the same time.

"Then, when you are older and more learned, you will know better how to help me understand--if you wouldn't mind."

Kim practically fainted. _This girl knows her stuff! Hinting that Ron's gonna get smarter--and that she's gonna stay around--and sounding helpless again!_

"And what do you watch on this TV, Ronald?" asked Athalia demurely.

"Well--my favorite show is 'Fearless Ferret'."

Kim smirked. _ Yeah. Explain that one,_

"Fearless Ferret? A story about a Talking Animal?" asked Athalia.

Ron frowned, "No, not like that. He's a human disguised as a ferret. It's what they call a super-hero. Someone who looks like a regular person most of the time. But when something dangerous is gonna happen, they change into a mask and costume. Some super-heroes have powers--special abilities. Other super-heroes have special machinery and weapons."

"And why do they disguise themselves in a mask and costume when there is something dangerous?"

Ron thought harder. "Well--they have a thing called a secret identity. When they're a regular person, they can go around and no one knows that they're a super-hero. But when a villain appears, or someone needs rescuing, they change into their super-hero identity.

"Ronald! I understand!" exclaimed Athalia. "These 'super-heroes' can walk among their fellow men in secret--to interact and watch. And when they are needed, they appear suddenly. This allows them to take a rest from their labors. And they can catch their foes unprepared. And the people can go abroad without fear, knowing that among them is a warrior and rescuer, who will show themselves when the need is greatest."

Ron nodded. Had he really said all that?

Kim was dumbfounded. If Ron had written a script to a TV show, this couldn't have happened more to his advantage.

The other travellers looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Athalia's strategy was obvious.

"Our little Dryad endeavors to endear herself to Prince Ronald," said Melandra quietly. "And with much success, I might add."

"She is a little schemer," said Sinewyn. "Still, it cannot be denied--she has tapped into Ronald's inner confidence." But they both wondered. What would this mean for the friendship that was supposed to renew the land?

Kim was silent and withdrawn. _ Ron was stressing the other night how inferior he felt. Why can't I do for him what this new girl does?_

"But, tell me more of this 'Fearless Ferret, Ronald."

"Well, he's got a partner--Wonder Weasel."

Athalia laughed. "Ronald! You are serious? A hero named Wonder Weasel?"

Ron smiled and shrugged. "Yeah. That's how the story goes. And his headquarters is called the Ferret Hole. And he drives a Ferret Mobile and Ferret Plane."

Athalia looked confused again. "Ferret Mobile? Ferret Plane?"

Ron explained. "The Ferret Mobile is a machine that travels on a road. Like a wagon with an engine. The Ferret Plane is a flying machine."

Athalia nodded. "You humans depend much on machines, don't you?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I guess we do."

Athalia thought for a moment. _This oft-repeated word. 'Yeah'. It must mean 'Yes'. _"This Fearless Ferret? Why that name?"

"Well--I guess it's because ferrets and sly and agile. And Fearless Ferret depends on his wits and agility to help him fight the villains."

"Does he actually exist?"

Ron shook his head. "Not really. He's imaginary. Sounds kinda lame, huh?"

It took Athalia a moment to figure it out._ "Kinda". Kind of. Sort of._

Sinewyn noted carefully Athalia's conversation with Ronald, and how thoughtful she looked. _Just as I was, she is trying to understand the Children's colorful slang._

And it did not encourage him. Athalia was taking advantage of the rift between Kimberly and Ronald to find her own place with the young Prince.

"Lame?" said Athalia, "You mean that your love for this imaginary character from a favorite story who disguises himself to perform deeds of kindness and bravery is somehow immature? Not at all, my dear friend. It shows you have a good heart. We have many stories here in Narnia of heroes. Are they true? Are they only legend? Who can say? But they inspire us to the same deeds of kindness and courage."

They walked for a while without talking. And Athalia broached another question. "Tell me, my prince. How old are you?"

"Nine years old. I'll be ten in a few months. We were celebrating Kim's tenth birthday in the treehouse when we woke up here in Narnia--or near Narnia"

"I should dearly love to have a house for you in my tree. Just a small house--a private house--for you alone.. For I am still young also, and my tree is not yet large enough to hold the weight of many. But you--you could easily live in my tree."

Kim seethed

"Uh--how old are you, Athalia?" asked Ron.

Athalia tossed her head, and her leafy hair rustled. "Only a few centuries. The elders say that trees live longer in Narnia than in the world of Adam and Eve. We do not count the years as you do."

Ron watched spellbound. Athalia did the head toss and hair-flippy thing even better than Kim. "And have you ever seen the Lion?"

"The Lion, Blessed is He? No, my dear friend. The King has not been seen in Narnia for the lifetime of many trees."

"And the rest of you guys?"

Kalderion only looked sullen.

Rimduffle grunted and shook his head.

Even Turnskillet shook his head. "As it is said, Son of Adam, He is not a Tame Lion. He comes and goes as He will."

Something about the feud with Kim was having an adverse effect on Ron's faith. Instead of the confident attitude he displayed yesterday, and even a few moments earlier talking with Athalia, he felt doubt. He felt punked by the whole arguement thing with Kim. And he had to know--was anyone else having the same problem? "Don't you ever think He might not come back? Or even if He's still alive?"

He hadn't meant to upset anybody else's beliefs. He just had to get what he was feeling out.

But it touched a nerve--several nerves.

His face turned away from the others, Kalderion smiled a bitter smile. _So. The Son of Adam is not just another blind follower. He has enough wits to question what he is told._

The two Dwarves glanced at one another. "Brother?" Turnskillet asked. "I am a cook. These weighty matters of philosophy are beyond my poor talents."

Rimduffle shook his head. "The little freckle-faced man-child in your friend, my brother. I am a warrior. I am even less of a scholar than you." And he half-smiled sarcastically. "Perhaps he does not need a wise counsel. He only needs to listen to a glib tongue. That is certainly within the scope of your abilities."

It was like pouring water on a fire. The mood of the group had been tense. Any sense of warmth hardly existed. This only chilled it more.

Kim felt even more punked than Ron. Yeah. _ Uh-huh. Typical Ron-ness. Acting before thinking. Starts out enthusiastic, and then bails when he doesn't feel all excited about it any more._

The two Fae, Freya and Safra, has been silent all morning. They felt an emotional bond with Kim, and they felt her glum spirit, so out of respect, they waited for a word from her that would permit them to be friendly and cordial once more. Freya realized that Melandra had a much more maternal relationship with the Daughter of Eve than anyone else in camp.

Kim was used to putting forth some effort with things like her chores and her schoolwork. She had the example of her parents. She realized what Ron had yet to learn. When doing a thing became harder to do, don't just give up on it. Don't go for the easy way.

It was lunch. This time, Ron was helping Turnskillet.

Kim sat under a tree. She pulled out the large book and was studying it intently

Ron watched. He ached in his heart for the time several nights ago when they took turns reading from the Chronicle's of Narnia. "Athalia?" he asked his faithful follower, "Could give me a couple minutes alone?"

Athalia was nonplussed. "Of--of course."

Ron happened to approach. "K.P. Whatcha lookin' for?"

"That thing Turnskillet said. 'He's not a Tame Lion.' I remember hearing in the book we were reading the night before we came here. I want to see if I can find it in this story."

"Well, be careful. Sinewyn said we should keep the Book a secret."

I know," snapped Kim. "I remember. I was there."

"And he said the same thing to Safra, later."

"I was **there**, Ron! I heard every word. Don't you remember? How in school the teacher said that I listen better than anyone else in class? And how you have to stand in the corner--or stay after school--because you don't know the answer--or didn't hear the question--or didn't finish your homework--or how long it takes you to do an assignment in class? So don't tell me what you heard Sinewyn say! I heard it too! I could probably tell you where we were when he said it! Because I pay more attention than you! And because you're talking to your new girlfriend!"

"She is so not my girlfriend!

Athalia listened from a distance, gazing off into the distance. She did not care about any obscure book. She did not betray herself. Like a tree, she could look and act oblivious to her surroundings. And she was not saddened by Ron's outburst. Apparently the word "girlfriend" had romantic connotations. But like a tree, Athalia could afford to wait with patience. Ron's actions were what mattered, not his denial. The time he spent with her. The way he spoke to her. And the Princess's little outburst. If Kimberly were near Athalia's birch, it would be so gratifying to swat that little bottom with a well aimed branch stroke.

And Kim's temper tantrum assured Athalia even more that Ron was drawing away from the one and toward the other.

Sinewyn decided. It was time to interpose.

"Athalia, my daughter. It is plain you are drawn to the Son of Adam Perhaps one day, when he is older, he could even return your affections. But for now, he is not for you."

" 'Daughter'?" she said haughtily. "My Lord Sinewyn, I know how high you are in the esteem of the Lion. You bear His messages and chaperone those whom He summons--but I am the daughter of the Trees, and I have lived far longer than any Talking Animal--"

"Athalia, you have forgotten. Melandra and I are not merely the Lion's messengers. We are His emmissaries--and His standard bearers. It is we who are long-lived--far longer than even the oldest Trees still alive. I knew you when your tree was a sapling. I knew your forbearer before her tree dropped the seed cone that became your tree."

Lunch was as swiftly eaten as breakfast.

But Kim had not eaten. She was looking for something about a 'Tame Lion'. But no luck.

The others were concerned.

"My Lady?" said Freya.

"Little kitten?" said Melandra.

"K.P.?" said Ron.

"People! Please! Give me some space! I've done wilderness hikes on minimal provisions with my Pixie troop. I've been on fasts for my Yoga and Kung-Fu training! I don't need to stuff my face like I was at Bueno Nacho--like **someone** I know!" She glared at Ron.

He got the idea.

None of the Narnians had ever heard of Pixie troops, or Yoga, or Kung-Fu, but they got the idea too.

Freya did ask Sinewyn, "Pixies? Does she mean Fair

Folk? Like Safra and I?"

Sinewyn shook his head. "I think not."

"In case you wonder," said Ron quietly to Sinewyn, "Kim calls this being 'tweaked'."

Sinewyn nodded. "A good word."

It was in the warm part of the afternoon. It seemed to Kim that they had been walking forever. She felt like she would drop from tiredness. She felt tweaked. _Ron is __**so**__ like __**blah blah blah**_, she thought.

Actually, the group had been remarkably silent all afternoon. No good-natured insults between Ron and Turnskillet. No coy flattery for Ron from Athalia.

Melandra and sinewyn noticed. Kim's eyelids were heavy. Her feet were stumbly. The dwarves noticed. Kalderion noticed. finally even ron noticed.

"Let us halt for a moment, said Sinewyn. The leopards sat in the shade of a tree.

Rimduffle muttered to Turnskillet. "This not a quest. It is a caravan to a disaster."

Ron dropped back beside Kim. "K.P.? Could I help carry your backpack?"

"No, thanks. I'll be okay." _I can do this_, she thought. _Anything is possible. I so don't need the help_.

Ron insisted. "But--you're exhausted!"

Kim had an outburst. "Ron! Leave it alone! The book isn't that heavy!"

All heads turned in surprise--even the dwarves and the centaur.

Ron's jaw dropped.

Sinewyn's heart fell. _She blurted it out!_

Chagrin and disappointment was reflected in Melandra's eyes. "Oh, Little Kitten," she whispered, "What have you done?"

Kim stood still. She started to bawl.

Ron came to embrace her.

She shoved him away. "**No! ** I don't **need** you! All you've done is make me sad! Go on! Go hang out with Tree Girl! But don't try and help me! We're past that!"

Kalderion stared at the girl. Then he shrugged and turned back to face the trail before them. _Why should I care? I am resigned to death. All I love is gone. If You indeed exist, oh Lion, let me die with honor, in battle, and release me from this futilty called life._

The weary walk continued.

"K.P," Ron insisted gently, "If you won't let me carry the--thing, at least let me carry you piggyback. Ya know? I bet you that Pain King will win and you bet me that Steel Toe will win? And the loser has to let the winner ride piggyback around their house? Like we used to do back home?"

"My Lady," said Sinewyn, "You would be but a light burden. Let my unworthy self--or my dear you up."

"LIttle kitten?"

Kim numbly shook her head. If she heard Melandra call her "little kitten" one more time--. And her heart was heavy with sadness. She had failed to remember Sinewyn's simplest instruction. Usually it was Ron who got distracted and made such careless absent-minded mistakes.

Despite Sinewyn's concern about the length of the journey, Kim was exhausted--not a physical exhaustion, but emotional. They made camp early.

Kim sat apart, clutching her backpack with the book.

Ron came quietly. "K.P.! Stop harshing on yourself! It's okay! Sinewyn and Melandra are cool with it. And the other guys don't care!"

"Ron!" She said tearily, "Stop with the excuses! It sounds so lame! I wouldn't let you off the hook if you did something so stupid! Why should I let myself off the hook? Or why should you guys?"

Kim's father had trained up his daughter with cheerful but relentless insistance on perfection. He was not angry if she failed. The only things that provoked that was if she lied--and if he thought he detected some hint of prepubescent romance--a boyfriend! And before the Teen-age years!

But Kim was hard on herself--harder than she would have been on Ron if he had done the same thing.

Ron wanted to make up for treating Kim so badly yesterday--and make her feel better about all the weird stuff happening today. He wracked his brain--and he had an idea..

"Hey Turnskillet. Can I borrow some of your utensils?

"Why Ronald--are you going to give me a free night and prepare tonight's supper yourself?"

"Nah--sorry. I don't think I'm up for that. Just something small."

"Of course. I have utensils to spare."

"Dude. I hate to bother you for more. Can I borrow some ingredients? You got flour? Sugar? Shortening--eggs?"

"Shortening? ae you making a joke about my height, Ronald, or is this an actual ingredient?"

"No! Dude! Something to make the dough rise."

"Oh! I understand! Like yeast. I have the very thing."

"Let's see--a whisk, a bowl--badical! Everything I need to make a cake!"

A birthday cake--for Kim.

Making the cake was a challenge. There was no oven or cake pan. Only the open flame and Turnskillet's iron pan. Ron made the cake in several layers, cooking the globs of batter on the pan, turning them as they were done on one side, then turning them again as they were about to burn. He was afraid the outside would be scorched but the inside remain uncooked. He made the batter thick, so they were like pancakes.

Finally the two layers were done. He cut them in the shape of a heart

With the egg whites and sugar, Ron had whipped the froth for the frosting. He spread the frosting on the bottom layer with the spoon, stacked the second layer, and frosted the entire cake. Then he set the candle on it.

Done. Ron inspected his handiwork Not bad, if he did say so himself. He held up the cake for Turnskillet to look at.

The dwarf squinted as he inspected. He smiled and winked. "Well done, my young apprentice."

It was a cute little cake, if he did say so himself. K.P. would think so, too

Ron approached Kim from behind. He started to sing, "Happy Birthday to you,--."

Kim had drifted of to sleep sitting up. The noise of Ron's singing irritated her. She thought it was a practical joke. He sometimes did such things, And so she turned around, half asleep, and yelled grumpily, "What is it, Ron?"

Ron was holding out the cake on a plate with the candle lit. Kim's shoulder hit the plate and knocked it out of his hand. The cute little cake landed upside down on the ground, the candle snuffed out, the frosting splattered on the grass.

Kim saw in an instant what had happened. Ron stood before her with empty hands and hurt expression.

But the look of hurt and disappoinment Kim saw in Ron's eyes was notheng to the stricken look of shock and grief Ron saw in Kim's eyes

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Words of apology tumbled from her lips "Ohmigod! Ron! You made that--for me?" Tears sprang from her eyes. "Oh, Ron! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to--! Please forgive me!"

And she burst into tears, turned, and ran away, sobbing.

"Kim! It's okay!" Ron shouted after her. "K.P. I know! You didn't mean it! **Kim!**"

For the first time in his life, he swore in disgust and anger "Dammit!" he said quietly. He was mad--at himself, at circumstances, at things in general. He wanted to take his foot and mash the cake into the ground. But it wasn't the cake's fault. It was only a cake. A stupid piece of pastry--that he had put his time, effort, and love into. And he had a very adult thought. The heart-shaped cake was symbolic of the heart of his friend Kim. Having acted like a jerk, he had tried his best to lovingly decorate it with sweetness. But it had fallen. It was messed up, and it was beyond his ability to make it better.

later--

Freya and Safra hovered over the cake.

"Sister--it is our way to use our magic sparingly. But might it not be a good thing if we were to restore this little pastry--for the Prince to give to the Princess."

"Yes. I believe it would be permissible."

As the night before, Ron slept in the general vicinity of Kalderion and the Dwarves. He was watched over by the unmoving Athalia.

She tried once to speak with him. "Ronald? My dear friend?"

"Not tonight, Athalia," he muttered, his face turned to his bedroll. "I messed up being Kim's friend. At the moment, I so don't feel like being anyone else's friend. So just lemme sleep."

And Kim slept huddled next to Melandra.

"Little kitten," she said quietly, "You must forgive yourself--and your friend--"

"Melandra, please," said Kim wearily. "No motherly advice. Not tonight. I just want to sleep and forget this day ever happened."

Sinewyn sat on his haunches under a tree, deep in thought.

The group he had so carefully selected was fragmenting before his eyes. Was it all Athalia's fault?

He and Melandra had spoken of the possibility of a traitor. Could there be one?

The winter in the land was a sign for the winter in the hearts of the people.

These two children were supposed to prepare the way for the four, who would fill the Four Thrones at Cair Paravel.

_**When the Winter is old**_

_**And hearts grow cold**_

_**Two shall come, never apart**_

_**Of two minds, but of one heart**_

_My Lord and my King--what if the hearts grown cold include those of the Children of Adam and Eve?_

He was not worried about a cake--but a friendship. A friendship that seemed weaker than he realized. A friendship that was being tested severely by a Dryad who behaved like an infatuated cub just entering puberty.

And Kalderion's undisguised hostility toward the Children of Adam and Eve. And Sinewyn knew the reason for that hostility. A deadly grudge against humans And he could hardly blame the Centaur.

And Kim's carelessness. She had blurted out the secret that the Lion had warned must remain a secret. The existance of a Book.

And over all, the White Witch. Jadis. The Mistress of Disguise. The schemer. She had ears everywhere. Spies. Narnians who looked loyal but were traitors for hire. She could circulate rumors, and even influence others' moods from a distance.

He went to Melandra and curled up with Kim between them.

She nuzzled him. "My Consort. You must not be like Prince Ronald. His faith is weak. It changes with his mood. And you must not despair. The Lion, Blessed is He, would not send up on a futile mission. Nothing that has happened has taken Him unawares. All will be made right."

But Sinewyn was now full of dread. Kimberly and Ronald had been summoned to Narnia. To meet the Lion, Blessed is He, Whose Name had not been uttered for ages.

And they would also encounter the White Witch, whose name was too well known. Who had locked the Land in endless Winter and exiled the Lion's messenger, Father Christmas. Who had managed to hold the Lion, the Son of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea at bay.

The two Beings. Good and Evil made visible.

It was inevitable.

Would the children be ready?

_**to be continued**_


	6. Chapter 6: as the crow flies

Just a short chpt. I turned it out Easter morning. A record for me, the Glacially Slow Writer. Big things coming, oh my readers. We must abandon Kim and Ron for just a few chpts. Please be patient.

I know. Introducing more characters. It's a brainstrain. But I'm so addicted to it.

Kynemina is Kim's Roman Empire counterpart from my fic Ronicus the Gladiator, and is now part of Kim's family tree. Cyneburga is Kim's medieval counterpart from my fic Saint Ron. Since she was put to death for her faith before she could bear children, she could not be part of the direct lineage--so I made her brother, Timotheos, Kim's ancestor.

Kim, Ron, Mr. Dr. P, Mrs. Dr. P., the Tweebs, Nana Possible, Mr. and Mrs. Stoppable, Bob Chen, Middleton, Pain King, and Steel Toe are the creation of Mark McCortle and Bob Schooley.

Telmar, Narnia, the Great Cat a.k.a. the Lion a.k.a. Aslan, and His standard bearers, the Queen a.k.a. Her Majesty a.k.a. Jadis, and her Secret Police are the creation of C.S. Lewis.

Darkkaw the Crow, the names of the Leopards, Sinewyn and Melandra, the names of Ron's parents, Abe and Rachel, are my creation.

The books mentioned in Ron's treehouse: The Lion, The Witch, And the Wardrobe is written by C.S. Lewis. The Wizard Of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. Pippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren. Have I mention--maybe in some of my other fic's--that Kim was very much into red-haired heroines when she was younger?

& just a few notes.

1. We find in A Very Stoppable Christmas that Zimm Possible swiped a Christmas tree from the British during the Revolutionary War. I sort of stirred in a little extra history. Historically, the custom of the Christmas Tree--or Tannenbaum--was imported from Germany to England. The practice really took off when Queen Victoria married Prince Albert from Germany--several decades after the American Revolution. But the Royal Family already had German roots from the 1700's. King George III of England sent mercenary soldiers from the German state of Hesse to supliment the British troops during the war. I just blended some historical fact, and _voila. _Did the Hessians really have Christmas trees? (Shrug) Dunno. Trivia: The Hessian troops were despised because of their cruelty to the American colonists. The Headless Horseman in Washington Irving's The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow was the ghost of a Hessian cavalryman. There. Who said fanfiction can't be historically informative.

2. I did a C.S. Lewis thing with the naming of the crow. Like Maugrim the Wolf is the name of Jadis's Chief of Secret Police--"maw'' and "grim". "Dark" and "caw". Kind of like my other character, Fangdrip. One of these times, I'll go into how I put the names together.

Once again, oh my readers. I most abjectly apologize for writing so slow--and for the delay with Kim and Ron's trip to wherever they're going. But just so you know: Will Kim and Ron meet Aslan? And Jadis? and the Pevinses? Yes, and yes, and yes. After all--how else could it be a Narnian story?

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

**_chpt 6_**

The sun set in Middleton, Colorado, on the day of Kim Possible's tenth birthday. She and Ron Stoppable were already settled into his treehouse, with their bedrolls and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. They took turns reading from one of their favorite books, The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe.

The children snuggled into their sleeping bags. The magic of the night had dulled somewhat after their conversation. Kim had big plans for her teenage and adulthood. She took everything seriously. Her family tree consisted of people who excelled. From her distant ancestor, a Celtic girl named Kynemina, to Timotheos, the brother of Saint Cyneburga, to Col. Zimm Possible, one of George Washington's most outstanding officers, her family tree was peopled with doers, who excelled. For Kim, life was competition, even if the only record to surpass was the one she had already set. Almost the only thing she took for granted was her friendship with Ron. In her mind, she had already attained that goal. Ron was not far off in the future--like a boyfriend or husband. He was already there. Her parents were two overachievers who had found each other. She assumed it would be the same with her. In fact, she planned on it. She just hoped her friendship with Ron would endure long enough for him to attend the wedding. And after that? Well, that's what a husband was for. Would she and Ron remain friends a lifetime? She hoped so.

Ron had hopes, too. He hoped that the Bueno Nacho would stay open forever. He hoped he could find something he liked to do. But he had no plans for the future--teenage or adulthood. Except one. To stick like glue to Kim. Career? Marriage? Too far away. Planning made his brain hurt. But his friendship with Kim--that was in the here and now. Nothing theoretical about that. It was not in the far-off future. It was present and tangible..

It was the one constant in his life. And it required work. Kim was constantly busy with extra classwork and projects--and worse yet, constantly crushing boys who were bigger, stronger, smarter, and better-looking.

A nagging suspicion in him sometimes asked if his friendship with Kim was selfish. After all, how many other kids would tolerate his stupid habits? He always liked to wear the weird costumes on Halloween. He was still riding a tricycle long after the training wheels had come off Kim's two-wheeler. Had how many other boys owned an Easy-Bake Oven? And--being honest with himself--his constant whining.

And Ron had an answer for the voice of the nagging suspicion. Kim needed him as much as he needed her. When the boy she was crushing on ignored her, or broke up with her, because she was a better student, athlete, whatever--when the emotional pressure of being able to do anything became too heavy her--when circumstances reminded her that she was, after all, still a young girl, there was someone she could go to..

When it came to his friendship with Kim, Ron was an expert. He knew the mechanics of the friendship like his father knew actuarial tables--like Mr. Dr. P. knew formulas for rocket trajectory--like Mrs. Dr. P. knew diagnoses for intercranial bleed--and prognoses for surgical outcomes.

Since that first day in Pre-K--when Kim's belief in herself was beaten down by the bullies--Ron had been her person of last resort. When she felt her worst, he knew when to suppress his own whininess, and what to say to encourage her. He was a natural at it--a savant. It was his great gift.

But now a shadow had fallen across the friendship--a shadow occasioned by the oncoming of a milestone--her tenth birthday.

They both slept uneasily in the treehouse.

Jim and Anne Possible were just turning in. The twins Tim and Jim finally got to sleep after the usual bedtime story, which they always insisted on--how Great-great-great-great-great-grandfather Zimm Possible had stolen the Hessians' Tannenbaum from the British camp on Christmas Eve--they always lost count of how many "great's" it was--or how Nana had defused the saboteurs' bomb on the hull of the Allied destroyer that the rest of her Navy SEAL team had overlooked. Abe and Rachel Stoppable were also turning the lights out.

The people of both houses shivered. The entire population of Middleton shivered. A black winged shape seemed to darken the bright stars overhead.

Jim Possible's old friend and college roomie Bob Chen was collecting data at the Mount Middleton Observatory. He looked up absently through the open telescope aperture in the observatory dome--and nearly gasped in horror. The familiar Man-In-The-Moon shadows on the face of the full moon suddenly looked like a woman. A woman with deathly pale skin, and glaring black eyes, and glittering crown--or was it the twinkle of starlight?

He rubbed his eyes and blinked. And looked again. This time he saw plainly the constellation of Leo the Lion overhead. It seemed to face the moon, its jaws agape, roaring in defiance.

He shook his head. _Waitaminute! Leo? That's in the wrong part of the sky for this of year!_

He blinked and stared again. But the sight was gone. The moon and stars looked normal again.

Above the skies of Narnia, a dark shape seemed to blot out the stars for a moment. It was only a small shape against the vast starry expanse, but the Narnian folk below felt the menace. Some of the Talking Animals muttered as they looked up from their burrows or nests or dwellings. "Darkkaw," they muttered.

The crow wheeled overhead. He wanted to caw raucously, just to disturb the sleep of the folk below. He took great delight in it. It served to remind them who wielded power in the land--and who her servants were. But he was under orders. **Her** orders.

_"Find them! Find me the Children of Adam and Eve! I know they are at hand. He is calling to them. He is summoning them. The Great Cat! I can feel Him! I know how He works! We must prevent their meeting Him! Great will be your reward if you succeed! And dire will be your punishment if you fail!"_

_"Yes, Your Majesty."_ And so he went forth. Was not Jadis the Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Isles? Darkkaw knew what she was capable of. Every servant of hers did. The dungeons. The Wand. The courtyard of stone figures. And worst of all, the sacrificial stone knife and the blood-stained Stone Table.

He was beyond the western border of the Queen's realm, in the unmapped expanse between Narnia and Telmar. He was not interested in the Telmarine barbarians. Plenty of human cubs there. But that was not was not what he was looking for. The Queen had made it plain. The Great Cat would bring _outsiders_--rag-tail immigrants--four to sit in the Four Thrones at Cair Paravel--and two bearing the Book--according to the prophecies--which Her Majesty utterly forbade the recitation of.

This was where the Little Land of Refuge was. The Sanctuary of the Name of Aslan**--No! **_Do not think that Name--not even in your deepest thoughts. She will hear_**.** The one place in all the world where Her Majesty and Her servants dare not go--not without accompaniment. Darkkaw felt uncomfortable. But there was something about this patch of land--.

--It was that tree. Just a simple maple tree. It did not even have a its own Dryad. Not all trees had their Indwelling Spirit, just as not all animals were Talking Animals, or not all streams were under the sway of the River God. But--as Darkkaw reminded himself with a chortle--Her Majesty had driven out the River God from Narnia--as she had driven out Bacchus, and Father Christmas, and Mother Ceres, and all the other souls who still bowed the knee to the Great Cat.

He peered. Yes! He was not mistaken. His keen eyes detected the glimpse of a crude wooden hut built on the lower branches. Why had he not seen it before? This was a bad sign. Such things were clues to the Doorways to the World of Humans.

Darkkaw lighted on the tree branch and hopped into the hut. Definitely of human construction. The signs were not good. A piece of cushioned furniture was against one wall--something the humans called a sofa. there were pictures on the wall. Two muscular humans, one wearing a crown, and one a metal shoe. The crow could read. Their names were "Pain King" and "Steel Toe". But these were not the cause of concern. On the other side of the room was a bookshelf that took up the entire wall--and a space was empty.

There were other books on the shelf, with names like The Wizard Of Oz, and Pippi Longstocking, and Tom Sawyer. Like the two humans in the picture, these names meant nothing. This Wizard, whoever he was, would be no match for the dark magic of Her Majesty. Just as Pain King and Steel Toe would be no match for the Queen's Secret Police.

The crow's keen predator eyes spotted the signs. His keen predator's sense of smell detected the odors. Bread crumbs on the floor. The smell of peanuts. A strand of red hair. Two human cubs--a girl and boy. And animals! A stray hair. Darkkaw inspected--Leopard! It must be the Great Cat's Standard Bearer, Sinewyn, and his consort, Melandra!

Darrkaw was alarmed. They must be heading west, toward the Land of Refuge. The trace of those who were here earlier couldn't be more than two days old. He could overtake them--but he had found the Children of Adam and Eve, as the Queen had ordered him to do. He did not have to see to know. He must now return and tell his Mistress. He hopped to the shelf and took out the "Tom Sawyer" book with his beak. He ripped a page out, to show the Queen. With the page in his claws and the red hair in his beak, he flapped clear of the hut and took to the skies.

And on the ground below the tree were more signs. Sets of feet--Leopard, Human, Dwarf, and Centaur. Darkkaw flapped faster. It was urgent. The Queen must know...


	7. Chapter 7:dreams and persuasion

Now--we're back on track.

screaming phoenix: I'm glad that you think my writing is fine. I'm glad to be your introduction to C.S. Lewis. I hope to immerse the readers in the concepts of Lewis & Narnia. Little by little I'm seeing more of the K.P. episodes, in places like Youtube and Itunes. Would it shock you to to hear me say how insufferable Kim can treat Ron? And a younger Kim without any of the coping strategies of the older Kim? Actually, she has the coping strategies but--well, you'll see. That's one of the unanswered questions. And more questions will come before answers will. I'm going to try hard to satisfy your anticipation.

CajunBear73: yes. The hope of Narnia is indeed being played out in a passion play, of sorts. The Dark Side is working overtime.

Kim and Ron will reconcile. But they must pass through a crucible As the Lion says in chpt. 3,_ "They have a special bond, but the bond grows frail. I have a purpose for them. They will renew the Land, and the Land will renew them. " _His purpose will be fulfilled.

Linariel: to quote you: wow. What can I add to the praise you heap upon me? And as I have already written you: Sinewyn and Melandra are indeed the Standard Bearers of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Kid, you're as sharp as a tack. I've got to get more elusive.

whitem: I feel like a fraud. I have to confess. All this golden praise y'all are heaping upon me--much of the stuff I write down anymore just kind of drops into my head. I can no more take credit for it than I can the shape of my ears. It just--um--**comes!** It arises out of a love for Narnie, Kim Possible, and heroic stories.

thepenultimatefailure: I too hope to get where I want to go.

Ninja Master: Yeah. Sometimes I get into the characters' heads by asking myself--what is the stupidest thing I could possibly do or say in this sitch? And then I switch hats and ask, what is the most sarcastic thing that could be said back to the poor yutz? & welcome to the ranks of my readership.

Just before I published chpt. 5, I learned that Disney has pulled out of the partnership with Walden Media in making the next Narnia movie, Voyage of the Dawn Treader. This is disappointing news. It is my hope and prayer that all seven of the Narnia books make it to the movie versions.

I've dared to introduce theological concepts in other chpt.'s. Things like Solomon's Temple being the dwelling place of the Name of God. In all fairness, Lewis made that permissible by writing the Narnia stories around religious--Christian--concepts. And, judging from my reviews, my dare has been well received. I will now dare to raise serious theological issues--the nature of God. Don't worry. I'm not going to manipulate Ron into having a Christian conversion--yet. (Sly grin.) But the fact that the entire Narnia mythos is a symbol--or parable--or allegory--of the Creation, the Fall, and the Redemption, makes religion a hard topic to avoid.

And don't worry. I promise it won't be a bore. Got some action scenes lined up.

And now, the acknowledgements. All things portrayed or referred to in the story.

Mark McCortle and Bob Schooley's creations: Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable, Middleton, Rabbi Katz

C.S. Lewis's creations: Narnia; the Lion, Blessed is He; Jadis; Calormen; Tash; the Tisroc; the Tarkheenas; King Frank; Queen Helen; the Marshwiggles; Digory Kirke; Polly Plumber; Charn; and Andrew Ketterly.

My creations: Athalia the Birch Girl; Kalderion Goldenmane the Centaur; Rimduffle and Turnskillet the Dwarves; Freya and Safra the Fairies; Sinewyn and Melandra the leopards; Frank and Helen's last name, Cobbleton.

Kim's dream of the creation of Narnia is excerpted from chapter eight of The Magician's Nephew, by C.S. Lewis--sans permission. I know it makes one long chpt. But depicting Kim's dream is part of the story--and instead of having the reader go to the book, I brought the book to the reader.

_**THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**chpt. 7**_

Athalia kept vigil standing beside her Ronald that night as she had the night before.

But it was not the same as the night before. The mood of the camp was troubled. Very troubled. Kimberly had acted like a spoilt little brat in response to Athalia's growing closeness to Ronald. In fact, she acted like a little Tarkheena.

Athalia had heard stories of the nobility of Calormen to the south. It was a desert land, the tales said. Sandy and hot, with a few oases. The trees of that land were a foreign kind. Palms, with huge leaves. A single leaf was as large as an umbrella, and could shade a traveler from the glaring sun. Trees that bore exotic fruit, like dates and figs, sweeter than honey, so sweet they made the teeth ache. And most mysterious of all, the myrrh and frankincense trees, whose gummy resin could be made into wonderful fragrances, spices, and incense, which the men burnt to honor their god Tash, and the women adorned themselves with to lure the men. Did those trees have their own Dryads, wondered Athalia. She should dearly love to know. When Ronald was a king in Narnia, perhaps they could journey south together--

Athalia shook herself from her daydream. How was she to know that Ronald would be a king in Narnia? But--again--for what other reason would the Lion, Blessed is He, summon human children to Narnia, but to overthrow the Witch and reestablish the Royal House? And like the tales, a King must take a Queen--and it was related how the sons of King Frank and Queen Helen had taken Dryads to wed.

Unless he took that little red-haired daughter of a thorn bush to wed! Princess Kimberly. Princess indeed!. The Tarkheenas of Calormen, the daughters of the nobles, were infamous for their tantrums and extravagances. Doubtless Kimberly was of the same mettle, disdaining the humbler attire of her friend. No doubt in the world of Adam and Eve, she insisted on having more expensive garments even when less costly would suffice.

Life was hard in Calormen. The growing season was longer, and the weather hotter, so there was much fruit. But the soil was not as fertile as that of Narnia, and rainfall not as plentiful. The farmers had to irrigate.

And the harsh land was made harsher by the merciless rule of the Tisroc and his nobles, who lived like gods while their slaves toiled.

It revolted Athalia. No honest Narnian would tolerate owning a slave, or being one. Would Ronald dare to overthrow the Calormene Empire when he became a King?

She heard a noise behind her--she turned quickly--

It was no concern. Only one of the little group.

"You have not slept well, sir?" she asked her fellow Narnian.

He was quite relaxed. "Actually, I have slept quite well, Daughter of the Birch. But I wonder how you so easily gaze peacefully on the Son of Adam when the entire expedition has been cast into confusion by the Daughter of Eve's unpleasantries."

Athalia huffed. "She is nothing to me, sir. I am concerned only with the human who has acted like royalty--the Prince Ronald."

"You do yourself great credit, Athalia. You behave with a grace and sweetness that is in marked contrast with the Princess Kimberly. Why, you even call me 'sir' , though I am but a humble Narnian like yourself."

"My mother, who lives in the tree from which my tree grew, taught me to treat all as servants of the Lion, Blessed is He," said Athalia, simply, returning her gaze to Ron's sleeping form.

"I watch you, Daughter of the Birch. You favor the young Son of Adam, the Prince Ronald. And he favors you."

Athalia shrugged. "And what of that?"

"Can you imagine the girl--his friend--that little brat, a queen of Narnia? Even for a human, she is stubborn and temperamental. Would not Frank and Helen Cobbleton turn in their graves? Would not their eternal sleep be troubled to see what it is the hope of Narnia hinges upon? Would they be proud of such a child?"

Conflicting urges fought in Athalia's heart. The one talking to her was the first one to speak openly of Kim's inconsistent behavior. There was the feeling that such talk was disrespectful of one who might receive a crown--royalty was the birthright of Humans only. And there was also the feeling that royal title might be a waste on a rascally little human girl.

The other continued. "Think of all the Speaking Peoples--the Talking Animals--the Marshwiggles--the Spirits of Tree and Water. Would they countenance such behavior from their youth? Would She who bore you endure such ill conduct from you? Would she not take a branch to your backside--as I assume you are thinking of doing to the Daughter of Eve?"

_Athaila's thoughts were being read!_ "How can you know--?"

"If I were a Daughter of the Trees and forced to tolerate such treatment from a Human, that is the first thing I would wish to do."

"She is unworthy to be a companion of the Prince Ronald," said Athalia bitterly. There. It was out.

"Do not the stories tell that the sons of King Frank and Queen Helen wed Naiads and Dryads?"

Athalia shivered. Her fellow Narnian spoke the very thoughts she herself had dared to think.

"Such might happen again," said the other softly. "And yet the Leopards hinder you from drawing closer to the young Prince."

"It does not matter, sir. I am only a simple Birch girl. The Lord Sinewyn and the Lady Melandra are the emissaries of the King of the Wood, the Lion, Whose Name cannot be spoken, Blessed is He."

"The First Children in Narnia--who were they?" asked the Speaker.

"They--they were Digory Kirke and Polly Plumber," said Athalia nervously. It seemed like a meaningless question--but she sensed an ominous point behind it.

"Did they come alone?" the Speaker pressed

"No. There was Digory's uncle, a foolish old man who, and the Queen of Charn, Jadis--whom Digory awakened." Athalia was repeating what every Narnian had heard from their elders.

And the Speaker asked a question--a short, simple question--but it turned Athalia's world upside down. "What if it was Polly who awakened Jadis?"

Athalia's skin was a naturally silvery sheen, like the color of birch bark. But her face instantly became sickly pale. Her mouth opened but she could not speak.

"Do you know the history of Narnia?" pressed the Speaker. "It's birth and beginnings?"

Athalia swallowed a few times.

"Take your time, young Athalia."

When Athalia found her voice, it was a frightened little squeak. "Yes. The Lion, Blessed is He, awakened all things with His Song."

And the Speaker asked another question. "What if it was Jadis who awakened all things with her song?"

And Athalia shivered with raw terror. In a mere moment, her faith had been rocked to its foundation. Dryads could eat cooked food, even as the Leopards could eat cooked food, but they subsisted mainly on the soil and water, that they could draw through their feet when they were at rest, like the trees. No dryad in the history of Narnia had ever gagged or been sick--or felt like it--until now.

She was nearly hysterical. She babbled frantically. "But--if Polly awakened Jadis--and if Jadis is good--then it was a good thing the human girl did--" She covered her ears. "Stop it!" she whispered fiercely. "You are confusing me!"

"As you wish, Daughter of the Birch. I only emphasize--how much your understanding depends on what you are told--and who is telling you. If you wish to ask the Leopards of these matters, I am sure they will answer you honestly. But--" And the Speaker whispered sternly. "--If you are suddenly as unsure as I am about the rightness of entrusting a crown of Narnia to Kimberly Daughter of Eve, seek me out later. And I will tell you such things that may set matters in a different light--if you have the courage to think for yourself--and not accept every story that you are allowed to hear." And the Speaker walked quietly away, leaving Athalia to gaze upon her Prince and wrestle with the disturbing thoughts she now had.

Ron's sleep was troubled. But Ronald himself had verbalized something they all felt.

Well, maybe not the leopards. They beheld the face of the Lion, Blessed is He. But the rest--

Just like the night before, Ron's memory was amped up.

At last Saturday afternoon's Shabbat service at Temple, Rabbi Katz had spoken about believing God.

He had read off the passages from the Torah--the Law, the Books of Moishe--or Moses, as Kim would know him--and from the Nevi'im--the Prophets.

The synagogue the Stoppable's attended was not an Orthodox congregation. Rabbi Immanuel Katz was not an Orthodox rabbi. But he was old-fashioned in this sense. He believed in the miracles. He believed that God had really spoken to the men and women--and that He could speak again today--and act in their lives.

From the Breishit. (Or what they called Genesis in Kim's church.)

And He brought him forth abroad, and said, "Look now toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them." And He said unto him, "So shall your progeny be." And Avram believed in the LORD; and He counted it to him for righteousness.

From the Chronicles of the Kings.

And they rose early in the morning, and went forth into the wilderness of Tekoa: and as they went forth, Jehoshaphat stood and said, "Hear me, O Judah, and you inhabitants of Jerusalem: believe in the LORD your God, so shall you be established; believe His prophets, so shall you prosper."

From Y'shayahu--the Prophet Isaiah:

You are My witnesses, says the LORD, and My servant whom I have chosen; that you may know and believe Me, and understand that I am He. Before me there was no God formed, neither shall there be after Me. 

From the Psalms.

And a fire was kindled against Jacob, and anger also went up against Israel, because they believed not in God, and trusted not in His salvation. Yet He commanded the skies above and opened the doors of heaven. And He rained down manna upon them to eat.

And Ron had to ask himself--was he guilty? Sinewyn had mentioned that Narnian hearts had grown cold with disbelief. Had he added to the sitch by what he said?

_"…Have you ever seen the Lion?" he had asked._

_And Athalia had answered. "The Lion, Blessed is He? No, my dear friend. The King has not been seen in Narnia for the lifetime of many trees."_

_Turnskillet had said, "…Son of Adam, He is not a Tame Lion. He comes and goes as He will."_

_"Don't you ever think He might not come back? Or even if He's still alive?"_

And from there the day had gone downhill. Kim had searched in the Book for that phrase. _He is not a Tame Lion_. And she had blurted out the very existence of the Book…

…Which was supposed to be a secret.

But it was something even Ron knew--once you blurt something, you can't un-blurt it.

And another, deeper, question poked into his mind. Who **was** the Lion?

Back in Middleton, Ron was starting to get into the video games. Everlot. Zombies of Mayhem. Each game had its characters. All-powerful spirits and beings, both good and bad. But never for a moment did he think they were the equivalent of the Almighty Who had made all things in the real world--he did wish sometimes the heroes of the Bible were as exciting as the heroes of the video games.

But now he was in a realm that was Real Life--or so it seemed. He and Kim had raised the question between themselves just a couple days ago--in between quarrels. They had worked out a test to see if this whole sitch was one long imaginary dream.

There was the One Whom they called Adonai--Lord--Whose Name was too holy to speak. Who had created all things. Whom they blessed. Whom the Jews had prayed to for centuries.

And the Lion--Whose Name Kim and Ron had known back on Earth--but couldn't say here. And no one else would either.

Coincidence?

Was the Lion on Earth? And was Adonai here in Narnia? It was a question Ron would've asked Rabbi Katz--if he could.

Kim's sleep was troubled.

She had spent their lunch stop yesterday poring through the huge volume that was somehow the result of the set of books in Ron's treehouse combining. It was the history of Narnia--but most of the pages were blank--because from the perspective of the time and place Ron and she had entered Narnia, most of that history had not yet taken place.

She had searched frantically for the phrase, He's not a Tame Lion. She knew it occurred in the Narnia book Ron and she had read together--back in Middleton--before this whole ridiculous sitch of an expedition began.

_Just like usual_, she had thought. _Ron's stuffing his face and I'm cracking the book._

But Kim did not find what she had sought. In fact, she had made the worst blunder yet--she had blurted out the secret of the Book that Sinewyn had insisted must remain a secret.

The rest of the day was a disaster. Kim was tweaked at everyone. And everyone was tweaked at her.

And then the most awful thing happened. Ron had spent almost a couple hours baking a little birthday cake for her. And Kim accidentally wrecked it. She felt like crap. She hadn't felt so bad since the family pet had been run over by a car when she was in first grade--but that is another story.

Kim could understand how Ron felt, now. Back in the treehouse, he had seemed to have the most ferocious inferiority complex. The whole Narnia trip was one stretch of bad road. Kim wanted to wake up in her own bed. She wanted to never read another book again--or climb into a treehouse again. And if Daddy ever said to her again that 'Anything is possible for a Possible', she wanted to scream her head off.

Kim was dreaming--and her dreams, what she had read from the Book took shape.

So the horse never got his drink. Instead, the whole party found themselves sinking into darkness. Strawberry neighed; Uncle Andrew whimpered. Digory said, "That was a bit of luck." 

There was a short pause. Then Polly said, "Oughtn't we to be nearly there now?" 

"We do seem to be somewhere," said Digory. "At least I'm standing on something solid." 

"Why, so am I, now that I come to think of it," said Polly. "But why's it so dark? I say, do you think we got into the wrong Pool?" 

"Perhaps this is Charn," said Digory. "Only We've got back in the middle of the night." 

"This is not Cham," came the Witch's Voice. "This an empty world. This is nothing." And really it was uncommonly like Nothing. There were no stars. It was so dark that they couldn't see one another at all and it made no difference whether you kept you eyes shut or opened. Under their feet thee was a cool, flat something which might have been earth, and was certainly not grass or wool. The air was cold and dry and there was no wind.

'My doom has come upon me" said the Witch in a voice of horrible calmness.

"Oh, don't say that," babbled Uncle Andrew. "My dear young lady, pray don't say such things. It can't be as bad as that. Ah--Cabman--my good man--you don't happen to have a flask about you? A drop of spirits is just what I need." 

'Now then, no then," came the Cabby's voice, a good firm, hardy voice. "Keep cool everyone, that's what I say. No bones broken, anyone? Good. Well there's something to be thankful for straight away, and more than anyone could expect after falling all that way. Now, If we've fallen down some diggings--as it might be for a s new station on the Underground--someone will come and get us out presently, see? And if we're dead--which I don't deny it might be--well, you got to remember that worse things 'appen at sea and a chap's got to die sometime. And there ain't nothing to be afraid of if a chap's led a decent life. And if you ask me, I think the best thing we could do to pass the time would be to sing a 'ymn."

And he did. He struck up at once a harvest thanksgiving hymn, all about crops being "safely gathered in." It was not very suitable to a place which felt as if nothing had ever grown there since the beginning of time, but it was the one he could remember best. he had a fine voice and the children joined; it was very cheering. Uncle Andrew and the Witch did not join in.

Toward the end of the hymn Digory felt someone plucking as his elbow and from a general smell of brandy and cigars and good clothes he decided that it must be Uncle Andrew. Uncle Andrew was cautiously pulling him away from the others. When they had gone a little distance, the old man put his mouth so close to Digory's ear that it tickled, and whispered. "Now, my boy. Slip on your ring. Let's be off."

But the Witch had very good ears. "Fool!" came her voice and she leaped off the horse. "Have you forgotten that I can hear men's thoughts? Let go of the boy If you attempt treachery I will talk take such vengeance upon you as never was heard of in all worlds from the beginning."

"And," added Digory, "if you think I'm such a mean pig as to off and leave Polly--and the Cabby--and the horse--in a place like this, you're well mistaken."

"You are a very naughty and impertinent little boy," said Uncle Andrew.

"Hush!" said the Cabby. They all listened.

In the darkness something was happening as last. A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were not words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it. The horse seemed to love it too; he gave a the sort of whinny a horse would give if, after years of being a cab-horse, it found itself back in the old field where it had played as a foal, and saw someone whom it remembered and loved coming across the field to bring it a lump of sugar.

"Gawd!" said the Cabby. "Ain't it lovely?"

Then two wonders happened at the same moment. One was that the voice was suddenly joined by other voices; more voices than you could possibly count. They were in harmony with it, but far higher up the scale; cold, tingling, silvery voices. The second wonder was that the blackness overhead, all at once, was blazing with stars. They didn't come out gently one by one, as they do on a summer evening. One moment there had been nothing but darkness; next moment a thousand, thousand points of light leaped out--single stars, constellations, and planets, brighter and bigger than any in our world. There were no clouds. The new stars and the new voices began at exactly the same time. If you had seen and heard it, as Digory did, you would have felt quite certain that it was the stars themselves which were singing, and that it was the First Voice, the deep one, which had made them appear and made them sing.

"Glory be!" said the Cabby. "I'd ha' been a better man all my life if I'd known there were thing things like this."

The Voice was now louder and more triumphant; but the voices in the sky, after singing loudly with it for a time, began to get fainter. And now something else was happening.

Far away, and down near the horizon, the sky began to turn gray. A light wind, very fresh, began to stir. The sky, in that one place, grew slowly and steadily paler. You could could see shapes of hills standing up dark against it. All the time the Voice went on singing.

There was soon light enough for them to see one another's faces. The Cabby and the two children had open mouths and shining eyes; they were drinking in the sound, and they looked as if it reminded them of something. Uncle Andrew's mouth was open too, but not open with joy. He looked more as if his chin had simply dropped away from the rest of his face. His shoulders were stooped and his knees shook. He was not liking the Voice. If he could have got away from it by creeping into a rat's hole, he would have done so. But the Witch looked as if, in a way, she understood the music better than any of them. Her mouth was shut, her lips were pressed together, and her fists were clenched. Ever since the song began she had felt that the whole world was filled with a Magic different from hers and stronger. She hated it. She would have smashed the whole world, or all the worlds, to pieces, if it would only stop the singing. The horse stood with its ears well forward, and twitching. Every now and then it snorted, and stamped the ground. It no longer looked like a tired old cab-horse; you could now well believe that its father had been battles.

The eastern sky changed from white to pink and from pink to gold. The Voice rose and rose, till all the air was shaking with it. And just as it swelled to the mightiest and most glorious sound it had yet produced, the sun arose.

Digory had never seen such a sun. The sun above the ruins of Charn had looked older than ours; this looked younger. You could imagine that it laughed for joy as it came up. And as its beams shot across the land the travelers could se for the first time what sort of place they were in. It was a valley through which a broad, swift river wound its way, flowing eastward toward the sun. Southward there were mountains, northward there were lower hills. But it was a valley of mere earth, rock and water; there was not a tree, not a bush, oh not a blade of grass to be seen. The earth was of many colors; they were fresh, hot and vivid. They made you feel excited; until you saw the Singer himself, and then you forgot everything else.

It was a Lion. Huge, shaggy, and bright, it stood facing the risen sun. Its mouth was wide open in song and it was about three hundred yards away.

_And with Eyes like fire, the Lion turned and looked--directly at Kim! __**"Kimberly Ann! Daughter of Eve! I bid you come to Me! You and your dear friend, Ronald, the Son of Adam! For this reason I have gathered My helpers! I summon you both! Come hither! I desire you both! Heed My call! Hasten to meet Me!"**_

_Just a moment earlier, Kim had found herself listening in rapturous silence with Polly, Digory, Strawberry, and the Cabby to the music. And when the stars blazed out overhead, she gasped in astonishment. _

_But the Lion spoke to her! This was not a scene from the Book! And when she opened her mouth to answer the Lion, she stuttered her reply. "B-but why? Wh-why us?"_

_The Lion's Eyes shone like fire. Glory blazed from His Face. His Voice reverberated to the horizon and back. __**"Since before you were born, I have known you both! Come and know Me! Let nothing hinder you--!**_

_**--Come now--!"**_

Kim awoke suddenly, with a loud cry of fright. Not quite a scream of terror, but she was afraid. She trembled and huddled against Melandra for a moment.

"Little Kit--!" Melandra started to ask, full of concern--but suddenly remembered Kim's harsh rebuke the night before at being called by the "little kitten" nickname. "Child, what is it? What has frightened you?"

The rest of the little group was now definitely awake. Without a second's hesitation, Ron made for Kim's side. He ran past Athalia, and without meaning to, shoved her. "K.P.! Oops! Sorry, Athalia. K.P.! You okay?"

Kim tried to swallow, and couldn't.

Turnskillet came with a leather waterskin flask. "Here, Milady. Sip on this. Slowly. It will not serve to choke."

Kim took a little mouthful of water. After several swallows, she could talk in a raspy voice. "I--hadda--dream! Digory and Polly--Uncle Andrew--the cabby--the horse--and--Her!" She gulped. "The--Lady--the Queen--Jadis! And--It--Him--!" She gulped again. "The Lion--Ah--Ah--!" Kim tried to make the Name come out, but she could not. The very Word that a moment she could plainly visualize as though it were written simply vanished.

The group around her looked at each other with surprise and shock. Some faces showed joy.

"Oh, blessed child!" exclaimed Melandra. "You have seen the King! He has granted you a glimpse of Himself!"

The two Fae, Freya and Safra, buzzed excitedly overhead. "The--Lion! The--Lion! Blessed--is--He! Blessed--is--He!"

And some faces showed not joy. Kalderion grimaced, and, thumping his mighty hooves, strode back to the patch of ground where he had spent the night.

Turnskillet was quizzical.

Rimduffle frowned. He cuffed Turnskillet on the arm. "Come away, my brother. While the Lion's minions and the Human cubs discuss such exalted matters as visions and dreams, breakfast awaits. I will gather the wood, while you start your preparations."

And Athalia stared with hurt eyes at Ron, holding her arm where he had accidentally pushed her.

Sinewyn mused. "You saw the creation of the World. This is a powerful sign. I am encouraged. But at the same time, I am concerned."

Kim wondered at the strangeness of it. For the Leopards, it was as though she had never let her tongue slip about the Book.

Athalia fumed. There would be no living with the little imp now. The Daughter of Eve had been given a vision--a revelation. And Ron--her Ron--had rudely pushed her aside.

Of course he did not mean to. Of course he had apologized. But his haste to get to his friend told the entire story. Kimberly held a place in Ronald's heart that she, Athalia, would never have. She wandered to the edge of the encampment.

The same one who had talked with her hours earlier came again. "Would you relinquish the heart of your prince without a struggle, Daughter of the Birch?"

"You are not with the Lord Sinewyn, sir? The Lady Melandra's 'Little Kitten' is suddenly the center of attention," Athalia said bitterly. "The Fae are as flighty as birds in spring."

He chuckled. "The Humans have a saying about jealously--that it is green-eyed."

"Well, that makes two of us, sir." Athalia simply stared at the ground. Little rootlings protruded out of the soil near her bare toes.

"You mention birds in the spring. Yesterday the Daughter of Eve twittered like a magpie about her accomplishments and the accomplishments of her parents--as though that gained her special merit. You, on the other hand, with your gentleness, drew forth from lips of your Prince his deepest hopes and desires--even as you draw forth life from the very loam upon which we stand. And Kimberly esteems him as lowly as the dirt on the ground. Have you not noticed?"

The Speaker returned to his duties.

Athalia continued to stare at the ground, at the little seedlings she had called forth by her power as a Dryad. _I am a Daughter of the Birch. I must draw love for me from the heart of my Prince as seedlings are coaxed from the soil--with gentleness and nurture._

Breakfast was like the day before--simple fare quickly eaten.

Kim found herself to be ravenous. She had missed lunch the day before--and had hardly eaten supper. She had gone to sleep bone-tired and sorrowful. But the sense of failure was removed from her shoulders. The dream provided a sudden shot of adrenaline. It seemed that no one was resentful--at least not the ones that mattered--the Leopards, the Fae--and Ron. And so she felt less defensive.

The Centaur? The Dwarves? They were along to be useful. Kalderion seemed to hate the children, and Kim didn't feel obligated to cultivate his friendship. Turnskillet and Ron seemed to relate okay, so, by extension, the cook and Kim were okay.

Athalia? Kim could hardly stand her. The Dryad was a boy-crazy flirt. Kim recognized (with a slight guilt twinge) the signs--being one herself sometimes. But Ron had rushed to make sure Kim was safe. She flashed the Birch Girl a superior stare--and almost stuck her tongue out. _So there!_

Ron felt better this morning. He watched his friend carefully. Last night was a wreck, with that whole cake sitch. Did he regret that all his work on the cake was wasted? A little. Was it good to see Kim obviously happier? Oh, yes.

Sinewyn studied the signs and weighed his options. He was both leader of the expedition and a servant of the Lion. He would have to give an account of how he led the expedition and provided for the welfare of the Children of Adam and Eve.

He had badly underestimated Kalderion's antagonism toward all Humans--and he knew the reason for that antagonism. Surely the children must wonder what they had done to earn such enmity--and they deserved to know. But it must be revealed gently. It was a shocking story.

Rimduffle treated the children as all sturdy Dwarves treat those less sturdy--with some contempt and indifference. But at least not with the Centaur's abhorrence--thank the Lion for that.

Turnskillet and Ronald seemed especially friendly. For that, Sinewyn was especially grateful.

The expedition leader had discussed with his consort the possibility of a traitor. It seemed unlikely--but then, word was circulating throughout the land of a coming of high events. The Witch was growing anxious. She had sensed the approaching fulfillment of the prediction of two friends.

And that brought into consideration another element in Sinewyn's considerations. It was the why the Lion had summoned the two Children of Adam and Eve.

Two nights ago, the Princess Kimberly had dreamed of the Witch--and last night of the Lion Himself.

It filled Sinewyn with excitement. Let others doubt that the King above all High Kings, the Son of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea, still cared for Narnia--or that He even existed. He would soon be on the move. It might even be the beginning of the End of the Winter.

And it also filled the Leopard with a sense of caution. The Witch would do anything to thwart the Lion's will. Deceit--abduction--murder--anything. If she knew they were here, she would seek their lives. If possible, she would seek to kill the friendship. And it was evident--the Daughter of Eve had a touch of Magic in her. The Witch might even try to lure her to the Darkness--as she had tried to lure Digory Kirke more that a thousand years ago.

Ron took his place next to Kim at the fire--almost. And Athalia took her place next to Ron--almost. Sinewyn should have never allowed her to join them--but how was anyone to know that the innocent little Dryad would prove to be such a source of discord?

And so it would go for the course of the day.

Kim was still dealing with the same issues of grooming and hygiene that had plagued her on the first day of travel. She was used to a daily shower, and a shampoo of her marvelous mane. Like Cousin Joss up at the Lazy C Ranch in Montana, Kim had reconciled herself to the lack of restroom facilities. When she had to--go, she--went. She had brought along her toothbrush and toothpaste for what she thought would be just an overnight in Ron's treehouse. So at least her mouth didn't feel too awfully grungy.

She was undoing her twin ponytails and brushing her hair.

As Ron had done with the little cake the night before, Melandra tried to renew friendly ties with Kim. "Little Kitten," she offered tentatively, "Would like me to help you with that?"

Kim declined. "No, thanks, Melandra." She was sorry she had lost her temper with the Leopardess as well as with Ron. And she wanted as much as Melandra did to restore their pleasant relations. But she felt ashamed of her loss of temper. And she balked at the efforts of another to help patch things up. _I can to anything, _she told herself. It would be only more humiliation to let Melandra make the first move. Kim's pride was at stake. She would make it right on her terms--in her own was--except she didn't know how to do that, yet.

Ron watched Kim. It was always a source of fascination. It reminded him that she was more than just his best friend. She was a very lovely girl. And even if she might never look at him as a boyfriend, it was some comfort to him that he got to stare at her without her getting too tweaked.

Athalia watched Ron watching Kim. _I must not be like her. Rude and self-absorbed. I must open the heart of my Prince as the sun opens the petals of a flower._

As they took up their walking again, Kim had shouldered the backpack and was putting her hair back in a single ponytail.

"Your friend, Ronald, the Princess Kimberly--she seems to care more how she looks that you do about yourself," said Athalia, making it sound like vanity.

Ron suspected that Dryad girls were just as fussy about how they looked as Daughter-of-Eve girls--but he didn't say it. "Well, she's a girl. Dressing nicer is a girl-y kinda thing, isn't it?…But she **is** kinda choosy about what she wears. If her mom takes her shopping to Smarty Mart, she cops a real huge tweak. If Kim's gonna wear it, it's so gotta be from Club Banana--and the nearest one of those is un Upperton. That's like almost an extra half-hour ride from where she lives…'Course her parents make more money than my parents do…K.P. keeps telling me that they built the new mall, it'll have a Club Banana store in it. That would be cool. Then we could hang out in the mall together.." And without realizing it, Ron was confiding in Athalia about something Kim did that bothered him.

Athalia followed Ron's explanation with some difficulty. _Smarty Mart. Club Banana. Upperton. Mall_. But she did not ask for a clarification. His meaning was clear enough.

The society of the world of Adam and Eve had advanced since the days of humans coming to Narnia. Horse-drawn wagons seemed to be a thing of the past. They do not even make their own garments anymore. They purchased them from a merchant--a clothier. And it was as she surmised! Kimberly insisted on more expensive garments even if the same item could be obtained more cheaply. But then it appeared that her family was more prosperous than Ronald's. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he felt the livelihoods in which his parents engaged were less honorable than those of her parents.

_Oh, my dear Ronald. How fortunate you are, to come to my world. Here we are not like the fickle Calormenes or Telmarines. Here one is honored by the nobility that is found in his heart, not by the fabric that covers his body._

_And the ultimate shame! She will not permit him to travel with her to this more distant marketplace! He awaits the building of this "mall" closer to their home city, so that he may have the opportunity to keep company with her while she lavishes herself with her costly apparel and wastes her father's wealth! How humiliating!_

Athalia tried to suppress her annoyance at Kim, and do what her fellow Narnian had suggested earlier--draw him more out of his shell. "What is the name of your city you dwell in, Ronald, in the world of Humans?"

"Uh, it's called Middleton. It's in a state called Colorado."

Athalia was confused again. To "state" something meant to say something, or declare something, like stating one's intentions. But she did not pursue that topic. Instead, she asked what seemed a perfectly natural question--for a Dryad. "What kind of trees are in Colo--Colo-ra--."

"Colorado," interjected Kim. "It's called Colorado."

Athalia chose to ignore Kim. "Are there birch trees there?" she asked Ron.

Ron stammered. "Well, uh--."

Kim, in her impatience, rattled off the answer. "Yes, there's birch. And aspen. And fir trees. In fact, there's all kinds of trees, both hardwood and conifer."

Ron flinched.

Athalia turned her head and glared at Kim.

Melandra shook her head sadly. _Little Kitten--have you learned nothing?_

Kalderion, at the head of the column, where no one could see his face, smiled wickedly. _Hah! Like all Humans! Opening her mouth before and her mind after!_

Sinewyn and the Fae sighed.

Kim continued brazenly. "And if you're interested, the tree his treehouse is in is a maple. Did he think about tapping it in the spring with we were younger to get maple syrup? Yes. He thought he could put it on pancakes as soon as it came out of the tree. He stood out by the tree trunk with a plateful."

Athalia angrily clinched her fists. "Daughter of Eve--"

Ron stared fearfully from one girl to the other.

Melandra and Sinewyn rushed into the space between the two girls. Melandra nudged Kim with her snout further ahead.

"Melandra!" protested Kim.

"Go!" said Melandra curtly. "Ahead of the rest!"

"Athalia!" said Sinewyn curtly. "Walk with me--back here!"

Kim tried to talk.

Melandra cut her off. "Hush, girl! I will speak, and you will listen!"

Kim's green eyes blazed with defiance.

Melandra's blue eyes blazed with reproof.

It reminded Kim of her mother, so she shut her mouth.

"Daugher of Eve! This behavior ill-becomes a Princess! I should think that if you were the more learned, your conduct would be better!"

And Sinewyn reproved Athalia. "Have you forgotten, Daughter of the Birch? The Lion, Blessed is He, has summoned them to our world for a great purpose--not for you fawn over--or to quibble with!"

At the mention of the Lion, a great desire arose in the heart of Athalia, to unburden herself and confide in him. Two confessions fought to be voiced. One was: _But Lord Sinewyn! I love him!_

The other was: _Please, gentle and wise Lord Sinewyn! I have heard strange tales. Can you tell me? Does the Lion truly care for us? Can you still my doubts?_

But the words caught in her throat. _How can I make anyone understand?_ She only bowed her head. "Yes, my Lord Sinewyn. I understand. The Prince Ronald has a high and exalted destiny--beyond the likes of a humble Birch Girl."

Sinewyn gazed at her sadly. _Child! You do __**not**__ understand. What you want from him, he cannot now give. Be patient. We do not know the end from the beginning. What you long for might yet take place!_ But he could not give false encouragement. So he put a forepaw on her shoulder. "I can only say this. Have faith in the Lion, Who knows all things, and can accomplish all things."

Turnskillet was with Ron, trying to turn the conversation to friendly ground again. "Tell me, son of Adam. Do they call them hotcakes? Or flapjacks?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I've heard those names."

The day, which had started with such promise, was rapidly spiraling out of control.

Lunch was quiet and subdued. Whether out of irony, or just because he thought it was a good idea, Turnskillet made pancakes. And he produced a jar of delicious golden Narnian honey.

Ron served a plate to each girl

And each girl murmured a sincere "Thank you."

"Hey," he said enthusiastically, "I got a bondiggetty idea! Let's all have lunch together!"

Whereupon each girl looked at him coldly, stood up, and moved to the opposite side of the camp area.

"Well, that tanked," said Ron to himself.

Turnskillet sat by him. "I will keep you company, my friend," he said cheerily. "My luck with Dwarf girls has been equally poor."

"Spankin," said Ron glumly.

As they prepared to take up the trek again, Athalia heard a familiar voice. It was the same member of the company who had talked to her before sunrise.

"You believe, Daughter of the Birch, that by patient effort, you will win an opportunity to be with your Prince--that, like a seedling, you will eventually push your way through the hard and stubborn ground. But it is as I said. The Leopards oppose you. Your only hope is if the little Princess reveals herself to be the little monster she truly is."

"What are you saying?" asked Athalia, mystified.

"Ponder the meaning of my words. It will become clear."

On the afternoon march, Kim and Athalia both stared daggers at each other.

Sometimes Athalia would stare at a patch of the ground ahead and furrow her brow with concentration.

And suddenly Kim would trip on a tree root that she had not noticed just a second ago. And she would turn and look with suspicion at Athalia.

And Athalia would look in any direction but Kim's and hum a tune.

Kim could only fume. She was not a Tree Girl--with special abilities. She was only a Daughter of Eve.

It was when they were gathering firewood for the evening campfire that the seething resentment between Kim and Athalia finally broke out.

There was a little sapling. Athalia was stooping to pick up a dry stick, and she noticed. It barely came to her knee. She lightly laid her hand on the little tree. "Live long and prosper, little sister. May we meet one day under the sun."

It puzzled Ron. "Talkin' to a tree?"

Athalia smiled. "It is a custom among the Dryads. We bestow a blessing and a helpful touch on each little sprout. I cannot tell if it is a Living Tree--as I am. I have simply given it a little--help. If it grows to maturity and indeed has an indwelling Dryad, then it is my hope that I will encounter her and fellowship with her."

Ron nodded. "Yeah--that's cool."

Kim was moping. _Yeah. Ferociously totally._

Athalia waited a few moments--and admonished her. "Princess Kimberly! The Lord Sinewyn has asked us all to help gather firewood! Prince Ronald is doing his share. What about you?"

Kim scowled at Athalia. Ya want firewood, Athalia? **Here's** firewood!" She grabbed the branch of the little tree and snapped it off.

Athalia stared in horror at this act of deliberate cruelty to a tree.

"Daughter of Eve!" said Sinewyn sharply.

Ron was shocked. "K.P.!"

All her feelings came rushing to the surface. In school and at home, Kim had always been praised for her talent and her ability. It was always Ron who was made to stand in the corner, or go to detention for tardiness, or be marked down for poor homework. And ever since coming to Narnia, it seemed like it was her getting harshed. She couldn't stand it anymore. She burst into tears. "Leave me alone! **All **of you!"

And she ran away to a clump of bushes.

Athalia snickered. In spite of the injury to the little sapling, the Birch Girl was pleased. Her fellow Narnian had suggested that she goad Kimberly into another fit of temper. And it was successful. "This is how she was last night! 'Little Princess'? The title 'Little Priss' fits her better!"

But Ron lost it. "Athalia! Enough!."

And Athalia stared stupefied at Ron. "Ronald--!"

He was vehement. "That's it! I've had it! Enough! Leave Kim alone! Get off her case!" He decided--whatever tweak was between Kim and him, at heart he really cared for her. He would give his life in the defense of his beloved friend.

The hateful glower in Athalia's eyes was replaced by anguish. Her lips moved soundlessly. _Ronald? Dear friend?_

And Ron felt ashamed.

Athalia's soft voice came to him across the distance. "I do not that--what you said. I have never heard that phrase, friend Ronald. 'Getting off someone's case'. But I know what it means. When you say 'Leave her alone!', you mean not to trouble her. But tell me--will you leave me? Will I be alone? Without you?" And then she walked away in the opposite direction that Kim had gone.

Ron gaped first in one direction, then the other. He stared questioningly at Sinewyn.

Sinewyn could only gaze sadly.

Ron made up his mind. He grunted, and ran after Kim. "K.P.! Wait up!"

"Go away!" said Kim bitterly. "Go see your other girl!"

"Kim," he said softly, "I don't have another girl." He circled around to look at her face to face.

And she turned away.

He put his hand on her shoulders and tried to turn her around. "Kim--I'm sorry. It's just--."

She looked at him. Her eyes were red and her lip was pouty. "Just what?"

Ron took a deep breath. "It's just--heck, Kim. You're ten years old. You've got, like, all these badical ideas of what you wanna do--like in high school and college. Me, I'll be ten this fall. And what do I wanna do? Make it through a school week without getting beat on by a bully.

What did you tell me last week? Next summer, you wanna go with your Nana, dog-sledding to the North Pole--or swimming in the Amazon. What to I wanna do next summer? Not have to face Gill Moss or Bobo the Chimp at Camp Wanaweep.

Kim blinked.

And Ron continued. "I've heard you talk about swimming the English Channel. Know what kind of channel interests me? The Wrestling Channel! Pain King versus Steel Toe! You even mentioned climbing Mount Everest someday! For me, it's a big deal just to climb the treehouse ladder! I'm sorry I bummed you out! It's just--a girl looked like she **liked**-liked me! And it went to my head!"

Kim sniffed. "You're saying I make you feel inferior? Is that why you're crushing on Athalia?"

Ron clutched his hair in frustration. "I am so not crushing on Athalia! I'm--I'm--."

"You're--"

"I'm just trying to deal with the idea that we're each into different things! And it bums me that we might not be BFF!"

Kim laid a hand on Ron's hand. "Ron!--we're still tight!"

Ron looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Sometimes, I don't feel like it, is all. I'll try to get over it."

"--Like I don't feel like it right now." A tear rolled down Kim's cheek. "Your new GF thinks you're freezing her out."

Ron frowned. "So not! **You're** my friend! **You're** my BFF! And if you want, **you** can be my GF--and you don't even have to let me hold your hand."

In the midst of her tears, Kim laughed. "You goofball! You are **so **the dork!" But she hugged him fiercely. "I ferociously love you, you creep! And it tweaks me awful to cry!"

Kim's hug was so fierce that Ron's arms were pinned to his sides, but he managed to bring his upper arms up enough to make do a weak hug of his own. He smiled wryly. "And you're saying only I make you cry?"

Kim nodded silently, sniffling.

"Love you too, K.P." said Ron. "Want me to cry as hard as you?"

Kim made a sound like chuckling and sobbing at the same time. "Creep!" she said, and hugged him even harder.

Kim finally relaxed her squeeze.

They regarded each other seriously.

"I'm sorry I was such a putz," said Ron earnestly. "I felt extremely down on your birthday night."

"I could tell," said Kim earnestly, "But I was just so the overachiever--like 'I'm gonna be this and that when I grow up'."

Ron heard a gentle buzz of wings.

It was Freya, smiling slyly. My Lord Ronald and Lady Kimberly, I have something for you." She gestured to the ground beside Kim and Ron.

There was Safra--standing next to a plate--with the little heart-shaped cake.

Kim gasped. "Oh my God--Ron--how--?"

Ron looked baffled. "Search me! Heck if I know!"

Safra winked. "A little Faerie magic, my Lords and Ladies,"

The hearts of the Leopards rejoiced. The two Children of Adam and Eve had confirmed their love for each other. But both turned their gaze to the wood.

"I will go and speak with her," said Sinewyn.

In the woods, Athalia wept bitter tears.

"Athalia?" called a gentle voice. "May I speak with you?"

"My Lord Sinewyn?" she asked. "Is that you?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Good," she said resentfully. "I'm glad you came to find me. It will save me the trouble of finding you--and telling you to your face--with the words my Prince used. **Leave me alone!**"

"My daughter," said Sinewyn with a note of entreaty in his voice, "I did not foresee the strong emotional bond you and the Prince would share. Nor did I divulge the whole counsel of the Lion. His intent in bringing them to our world was to renew their friendship--and to bring hope to the hearts of all who love Narnia."

Athalia chuckled bitterly. "Then it is most fortunate that I did not steal his heart, like a common mortal strumpet! The Lion, Blessed is He, forbid that I should upset the divinely ordained scheme!"

Sinewyn sighed. "My daughter? Will you not return with me? I know the Prince Ronald regrets his rash words. I know he still cares for you--as a friend."

"I am not your daughter, sir! And I regret ever meeting him! And if I return anywhere, it will be to my own woods! Now, please! Let me have my seclusion!" And she turned into her intangible form, like pollen and petals, and retreated further into the woods with the slight breeze.

In the woods, Athalia heard another noise behind her. "I said--**do not trouble me**!"

But it was the fellow Narnian who had conversed with her earlier. "It is only I, Daughter of the Birch."

"Then I will tell you also! Go away! I did what you told me to do! And everything has gone wrong!"

"I?" The voice was incredulous. "I told you nothing of the sort! I merely pointed an alternative to dealing with the Daughter of Eve."

"But what you told me to do--!"

"I merely said to think upon my words. What you do after that is up to you."

Athalia was confused again. She shook her head. And then she astonished herself at what she blurted out. "I wish I were Human! Then perhaps I might be desirable in his eyes! I would certainly be tolerated--or even rewarded--for my ill temper and churlish behavior!"

"Truly, Daughter of the Birch? Such a drastic wish? Is your longing for the Human Boy so great?"

Athalia stared at her fellow Narnian and nodded. 'Yes! I--I am determined!"

"Think harder, lass. There is a way. But you must be absolutely certain. I will leave you to your thoughts--and we will talk later."

Back at the camp, Ron had taught a song to the Fae. And Kim was serenaded.

_Happy Birthday to You, / Happy Birthday to You, / Happy Birthday, dear Kim, / Happy Birthday to You!_

Ron's voice cracked a falsetto, and everyone laughed.

Kim blew out the candle and playfully jabbed his arm. "Dork!"

The little cake was divided up between the children and the Fae. Ron glanced back at the Melandra. "Want some?" he asked.

Melandra shook her head. "No, dears. There is little enough as is."

Ron smudged some frosting on Kim's nose, and Kim smudged some on his. And a tickle fight developed.

And amid the laughter and squeals in the forest, Sinewyn returned to Melandra's side.

"Dearest? How fares Athalia?" asked the Leopardess.

He shook his head. "I mourn for our little friend," he said sadly. "She is badly infatuated with the Prince. Perhaps even deeply in love."

"What can we do? Should I talk with her?"

Sinewyn sighed. "If you wish, my love. It certainly cannot harm. It will take the wisdom of the Lion to unravel this dilemma."

After a while, Kim and Ron were huddled together apart from the others. Daylight was rapidly falling.

And Ron spoke quietly, as though in confidence. "K.P.--do you remember the two friends? Polly and Digory?"

Kim nodded. _From __The Magician's Nephew__._

"Digory's Uncle Andrew--the guy was such a loser--he wanted Digory to zap them home with the magic ring--and just leave everybody else there. But he wouldn't. He couldn't desert Polly. And I can't dump you. That's us. We're them."

Kim smiled. She understood. She felt deeply touched--and she shivered. "Ron--that was the dream I had last night. That was the part of the--uh--the you-know-what I read yesterday."

Ron nodded. She meant the book.

"There was something else in the dream," Kim confided. "The Lion talked to me. He wanted us--both of us--to find him. He mentioned both our names. And it was so real. That's what scared me awake."

Ron looked stunned. "Wow. Heavy."

Kim nodded. "So heavy."

He reached across the space and clasped both Kim's hands.

"Then it's a plan. We stick this out. To the end. Best Friends Forever."

Kim touched her forehead to Ron's forehead and returned the handclasp. "Agreed. Ferociously Best Friends Forever."

Ron frowned. "K.P.--are we gonna kiss?"

Kim stifled a laugh and playfully shoved him. "Dork!"

Kim and Ron snuggled together that night between Melandra and Sinewyn.

And Athaila stared at them from some distance with unspoken anguish in her eyes…

…And a Narnian stared at Athalia with sly eyes and crafty heart…

_**to be continued**_


	8. Chapter 8 the sons of Scarsnout

trecebo . I intend to finish this, no matter how long it takes

Ninja Master: One update coming up.

Don-Jam: Not saying the Lion's Name-you'll see. Last days? Could be. Certainly portentous days

Donteatacowman: thank you.

screaming phoenix: "the care and feeding of Kim Possible".I like your phrasing. And yes-every garden does have a snake in it-including ours.

Hermione Solo: it pleases me to perk up your day.

Bobboky: You bring up a VERY good point! Polly did indeed NOT end up with Digory-as far as we know. With your permish, I will try and incoporate it into the story. Poor Athaila-she's in for some severe trial.

CajunBear73: As usual-love your insights. Kimness was in full flower-isn't it always? You said it well. "Some sly words to cloud and befuddle a young heart who desires Ron." Yep. Athalia is being played. And it will get worse. And Kim will learn humility-as will Ron-as will they all.

My Plot Bunny made me take another detour. Another character. Another sitch.

I dipped into history for some of the content of this chpt. America was founded on certain principles. Freedom of assembly. Freedom of speech. Equal treatment under the law. Fair taxation. Self-governance. The colonists felt the English king was denying them those principles. And they went to war over it.

In the book-not the movie-LOTR-ROTK, we see how Saruman has taken over the Shire after the downfall of Sauron. Like a Totalitarian State. Or like a gangster turf. He is called the Boss. His gang of human bullies enforce the Rules. They live like kings and oppress the Hobbits.

C.S. Lewis-the author of the Chronicles of Narnia, of course-and the very close friend of J.R.R. Tolkien, author of LOTR-describes the same thing in That Hideous Strength and The Screwtape Letters. Both Hell and regimes that repress religion are run like Police States- or like ultra bureaucracies.

I can imagine my readers saying, "What? **Another** character? **Another** sitch? C'mon! This story is about Kim and Ron! And how they meet Jadis! And Aslan! And the Pevensies! You promised! How many years has it been?"

And I agree. But it's like what Ray Bradbury says:

My stories run up and bite me in the leg-I respond by writing them down-everything that goes on during the bite. When I finish, the idea lets go and runs off.

And in this case, the idea is literally a dog-or wolf.

Some characters are central, like Kim, Ron, the Lion, and the Witch. They are the source material we fan-authors write the story around. Some characters are necessary to telling that story, like Sinewyn, Melandra, and Kalderion. But some are invented just to solve a plot glitch-"throwaways", they're called.

But then something happens. The characters escape from their fence. They outgrow the plot glitch for which you devised them.

When a character introduces itself to you, it can be the most amazing thing. The more you think about them, the better you know them. You see them doing things-how they would respond in a certain situation.

At a certain point, though, you also have to say "enough" and get back to your story. And so, I present a new Narnian. He's on the wrong side. He's a little feeble-minded. But I've grown to love him. I hope you will too.

_BTW-THIS CHPT IS RATED ADVISORY FOR VIOLENT CONTENT._ There are graphic descriptions of the conquest of Narnia. And Fangdrip the wolf-you've already met him already-commits an awful murder. Be warned.

Like C.S. Lewis did for his Narnia stories, I have stirred in a bunch of different myth material into the pot.

Jadis herself is spoken as being descended from giants, and the Jinn, and Lilith.

Many of the early tribes and cultures speak of giants living on the earth in a bygone age-Viking, Greek, Jewish. The Bible informs that there were giants before Noah's flood. Some of the old stories relate that the angels who rebelled with Lucifer-or Satan-somehow mated with mortal women and gave birth to the giants. This is similar to the Greek myths, where we find the gods mating with mortals, and giving birth to heroes like Hercules and Achilles.

The Jinn are what the fallen spirits are called in Arabic tradition-like the Genie-like Aladin and the Lamp, the three wishes-that whole thing.

Lililth is a woman type creature of the Jewish apocryphal tradition-fallen angel, according to some-who tried to seduce Adam. And of course, has a permanent grudge against the human race because Adam spurned her for Eve. She will steal or kill untended children. This fits in neatly with Jadis's hatred of Human Children. Lilith is pictured as a woman with bird wings and feet-like the Harpies of Greek myth.

My idea for the creation of Minotaurs and other such creatures of Jadis, I got from J.R.R. Tolkien. He relates in the Silmarilion-a prequel to LOTR-how the Dark Lord bred Orcs from captured Elves.

I don't claim to be an expert on ancient mythology by a long shot. And those who are could probably point out flaws in my explanations.

Like C.S. Lewis, I am a Christian who believes in the historicity of the Bible, and the doctrine of the Bible and the Church. Some will have trouble with the mixing of the Christian and pagan stories. I can understand. Let me also say this. Lewis, and others, like G.K. Chesterton, see pagan stories as rich sources of imagery and wisdom that can-how shall I put it-reflect Christian beliefs, ideals, and values.

St. Jerome, one of the Fathers of the Church, saw Greek myth as likewise as a source of object lessons.

Lewis himself was asked if he thought Christianity was losing ground and folk were slipping back into paganism. Lewis said something to this effect-he wished that it was paganism. He saw it as something worse-he called it modernism. He believed that pagans were more easily converted that modernists-that pagans even were more inherently moral that modernists. He gets into this, too, in That Hideous Strength and The Abolition Of Man.

Is it possible for hearts to stray from devotion to the One True God through these stories? Absolutely. Actually, most anything can become an idol. Booze. Porn. Even simple stuff like TV and food. The Children of Adam and Eve can be a fickle bunch.

Lewis tells us how the Devil loves to trip us up on either end of the spectrum. We can be an atheist as well as a pagan-no god at all-or many gods. We can be a cold proud self-righteous Pharisee as well as a self-indulgent Epicurean.

But, enough with the sermon. Y'all came to read a story.

Rufus, Ron, and K.P. are the creation of Mark McCortle and Bob Schooley. Jadis, Maugrim, and the Lion are the creation of C.S. Lewis. Ginarrbrik the Dwarf is from The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe movie, by Walden Media. King Collin VII, Princess Ann, Groteskos, Fangdrip, Bonechew, Greytail, Madsnarl, Scarsnout, Snowbib, and Slackjaw are the creation of . Moi.

Making up names, especially for the White Witch's wolves, can be fun.

I borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book regarding the behavior of the Pack . And the communal behavior of wolves is well-established scientifically. It is for that reason the wolves to refer to the group as "the men" or "the boys"..

If you think about it, that's appropriate. Thanks to the Disney movies, Kim, Ron, the Pevensie kids, and Mowgli are all cousins in the extended Disney clan.

Rufus the dog will be the subject of an upcoming chpt. of my fic, The Seven Kisses of Kim Possible.

And-it's time for another one of C.S. Lewis's characters from the original Chronicles of Narnia. She's a Biggie-a major player. See if you can spot her.

On with the show.

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**chpt. 8**_

_**THE SONS OF SCARSNOUT**_

Slackjaw the son of Scarsnout yipped in his sleep. Not loud yips. Quiet yips. Yips that if he were a puppy they would call cute. Faithful old dog-chasing off the squirrels and rabbits-couldn't catch one if his life depended on it. Wagging his tail.

He dreamt of a Son of Adam. A young cub. Hardly ten years old. The boy's hair was yellow-not the bright yellow of dandelions, but the color of birch leaves in autumn-the last autumn he could remember before the Queen decreed unending Winter. Brown eyes the color of tree bark. And a Daughter of Eve with green eyes that sparkled like big dew drops on the green grass. Hair of the most amazing color. As red as a bonfire. As red as maple leaves in autumn. As red as the ruby sun as day's beginning-or day's end. She wore her hair in twin ponytails, above each ear. They flipped when she turned her head. She appeared to be as young as the boy. She had what looked like wires on her teeth-like a metallic brace-it looked painful.

They both threw the ball, first one, then the other. They also threw a round flat thing. The girl called it a _frizz bee_. Slackjaw thought this strange. It looked nothing like a bee, frizzy or otherwise. It did sail a long way. When they threw it, it flew through the air slower than the ball, and for a longer distance. This also was puzzling. It made him stop and look at it quizzically. He would tilt his head and stare at as it flew out of chasing distance-which made them laugh.

Then the girl would always shout. "Stupid dog! **Chase** it!"

And the boy would always say to the girl, "KP, he's just a dog!"

And he would then give chase. Sometimes he caught the frizz bee while it was in flight. Sometimes it landed, and he would pick it up in his teeth.

Part of the game was to give back what they threw-after a while. He soon found he could make them chase him. There would be a tug-of-war. But he would always let the children win.

He noticed. The boy was like him-a little slower than the girl, a little more careless, a little distracted. Sometimes the boy would forget to buckle his belt-and his pants would sag.. The girl seemed to concentrate more on things. She cared more about how she looked. She would tie her shoes-and sometimes tie his shoes, too.

"Ron-focus-head in the game," she would say.

Those were their names. Ron and KP.

That was a very odd name for a girl. Not a beautiful name-like Karen-or Kolleen-or even Kimberly.

It might be Kaypee-but he thought that was an even worse name for such a pretty girl. It sounded like what you do against a tree trunk-taking a pee.

So he stuck to the idea that her name was a couple letters-like an abbreviation.

Slackjaw was proud of himself. He could read. He had been taught by his mother, Snowbib.

Which was another strange name for a girl. Unless you knew what it meant.

Snowbib, the daughter of Greytail, and the mate of Scarsnout-Slackjaw's father-was born with the most remarkable bib-the area of fur that covered the upper chest, under the jaw, between the forelegs. White as snow. Soft as goosedown. Hence the name Snowbib.

Knowing how to read also helped when trying to understand the Queen's Rules that were posted everywhere. The Queen was forever putting up notices and posting signs. Rules. Lots of rules. No parties. No vacations. Taxed must be paid on time. People could not meet in large groups. They could not even have decent food. Or live in decent homes. No privileges for the common folk. Only for the Queen and her chosen followers-like the Cyclops, the Minotaurs, the Bogles, the Hags, the Vampires, the Werewolves. And the Secret Police.

That included Slackjaw's family. His father Scarsnout, son of Madsnarl, was the Captain of the Secret Police. The families of the Police were allowed the special privileges. And the good food. And the decent lifestyle.

But it wasn't fair. It there was one thing Snowbib taught her son, it was to be fair. Aslan the King had set up laws when He founded the Land of Narnia uncounted lifetimes ago. The Living Trees must not be harmed. The Talking Animals must take care of the Dumb Animals. The Royalty-the Children of Adam and Eve-must take care of the Talking Animals. Fair treatment. No bullying allowed.

According to his mother, the Laws of Aslan were written on the scepter Aslan's Father, the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea, and engraved on the trunk of the World Ash Tree in letters that were as deep as a spear shaft. The Emperor and His Son dwelt in Aslan's Land beyond the Eastern Ocean. It sounded like a marvelous place.

The Laws were also written on the Stone Table. It was a solemn and holy place, located almost within sight of Cair Paravel, the castle built by the seashore. Also written on the Stone Table was the penalty for treason-death. The responsibility of that grave and somber duty was given to the royalty. The blood of the traitor belonged to the rightful Executioner. Otherwise, the Land of Narnia would overturn in blood and fire. It was called the Deep Magic.

But the new Royalty-the Queen-who claimed to be a Daughter of Lilith, Adam's other wife, seemed to allow bullying.

The Queen would allow no disrespectful talk of herself. And everything was punishable by some drastic penalty. Imprisonment. Starvation. Flogging.

Snowbib-his sweet indulgent mother-was quite firm in her disapproval of such behavior-both from the Queen and her servants.

Slackjaw remembered his mother quite well-even though she disappeared when he was still rather young. He was almost fully weaned. His younger brother Fangdrip was already weaned. Fangdrip was like that. Always ahead of the curve.

Snowbib was the most beautiful wolf in the entire Lantern Waste. Grey fur the color of an overcast sky. Ears tipped with white. And white feet. Her entire coat was soft-not rough and wiry, like his father's. Her eyes were dark, but they gleamed like the dew on a spider web in the morning.

Slackjaw loved to lay his head on her flank after nursing. She would lick him-or nuzzle him snout to snout. Or chase him. She was kind and gentle.

And what he loved most was the stories of Aslan. The Great Lion. The King of the Wood. The Son of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea. The King above all High Kings. How He created the Land and the World by singing it into existence. And he called Children of Adam and Eve from their World to be its rulers, to govern fairly, to protect and care for its Talking Animals.

"Your mother's spoiling you, boy," Scarsnout would complain. "A wolf should be made of tougher stuff. Why, your brother is already weaned, and you're still a'suckling at her teat."

"Be patient," Snowbib would say. And she would bat her long-lashed eyes and play the submissive. And Scarsnout's tough resolve would melt like ice in spring.

Which displeased Her Majesty, the Queen Jadis. She had begun to summon all her followers to her new castle between the two hills beside the Northern Tributary of the Great River. She refused to live at Cair Paravel.

Some of the followers looked-and acted-just horrid. The Cyclops, the Minotaurs, the Bogles, the Hags, the Vampires, the Werewolves.

The Queen was a stern ruler, Snowbib told her son, who wanted all her followers to fight like savages. But not to worry, she assured him. Nothing would bother their little family.

Then she-and his father-disappeared. Both of them

But Fangdrip was left to look after his brother, Slackjaw..

In his father's place, Fangdrip had been chosen as Captain of the Secret Police. It was a great honor, and Slackjaw was very proud of his brother.

But sometimes he would broach an old topic. "Brother-where have they gone? I miss them both-especially Mother."

And Fangdrip would growl with impatience. "Brother-how should I know? Mother disapproved of the Queen. She deserted the Pack-and us. And she talked Father into joining her! Don't you be like that-head in the game! Focus! And don't be so feeble-minded!"

It was how K.P. treated Ron. With reproof and rebuke.

Sometimes Fangdrip would cuff him. Or even bite his leg. That hurt. Both his leg and his heart. Snowbib never did such things.

But then Fangdrip would just nudge him again and tell him he cared for him.

Just like K.P. and Ron.

That was when the dreams began-after Snowbib's disappearance.

He tried now and then to talk to the Human children, in his dreams. Ron would seem to understand. He would try to talk back

And K.P. would look annoyed. "Ron! What are you doing?"

Ron would shrug. "I'm trying to talk to Rufus."

"You sound like one of those yodeling Switzerland guys! It hurts my ears! It probably hurts Rufus's ears!"

That was another strange thing. They called him "Rufus". But he didn't mind.

Ron would always answer. "K.P.-I've never been to Switzerland. But I like Swiss cheese. Does that count?" (Slackjaw liked cheese, too.)

And K.P. would answer curtly, "No."

Slackjaw noticed that she was the one who washed him. When he shook the water off himself after, she would sputter. "Ugh! Ew! Dumb dog!"

She was also the one who groomed him. And took him on walks with his leash on him.

He loved the grooming and brushing. He would wag his tail and flick it in her face. And K.P. would hug him fiercely and whisper, "Dumb dog! I love you!"

Did his brother really love him as much as the Children of Adam and Eve loved each other? He hoped so.

Both the children had freckles. Everything about them reminded Slackjaw of the warmer days of the other seasons-before the coming of Her Majesty's brutal and merciless Winter. Always Winter and never Christmas.

Slackjaw could not remember Christmas. His father Scarsnout did not believe in it. Neither did Her Majesty the Queen.

That was more of her Rules. No Christmas. And no mentioning of the Name of Aslan. It drove her berserk. She did not even allow Him to be called "The Lion". It was the "Great Cat".

Slackjaw had never met the Great Cat. Nor had his parents. Nor even his father's father, Madsnarl. He tried to imagine a giant Cat. The cats he saw in his dreams with Ron and K.P. were such fascinating creatures. Serene and mysterious. Like the Queen. Until they saw something that disturbed them-him, for example. Then they turned into hissing, spitting, demon-eyed hellions. Like the Queen.

Slackjaw sincerely hoped Aslan was not like that. His mother described the Lion as regal, a Talking Animal of great size and power, terrible in His wrath, but overwhelming in His kindness.

But in the distant mists of time, Her Majesty had, according to the gossip, actually met the Lion-at the Beginning of the World. Along with the gentle guardian spirits. The River God. Mother Ceres. Bacchus. and Father Christmas. And the two Children of Adam and Eve..

If it were really true-that the Queen had really met children-how Slackjaw envied Her Majesty! Surely what Maugrim and the others said couldn't be-that the Queen hated Children of Adam and Eve. How could anyone fail to love a child?

In real life, Slackjaw played with other Talking Animals that dwelt beyond the gate of the Queen's castle. Rabbits. Hedgehogs. Opossums. Chipmunks. There were also two poems he had heard from some of his animal friends.

_**When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone / Sits at Cair Paravel in throne / The evil time will be over and done.**_

_**When the Winter is old / And hearts grow cold / Two shall come, never apart / Of two minds, but of one heart.**_

The poems were spoken of as _prophecies_-whatever that meant. The Talking Animals tried to explain. A prophecy was a thing that was going to happen. Humans would return from the other World and live at Cair Paravel. Children of Adam and Eve. He wondered if it would be real children-like in his dreams.

He would like to meet Father Christmas. The stories said he brought toys for the children-like balls-and even frizz bees. How wonderful to be able to ride with in the sleigh. An even bigger sleigh than the Queen's-full of bags of toys

They told of the poems in whispers, as thought fearful of being overheard. And when Slackjaw asked more about it, they quivered. "We mustn't! After all-even the trees might have ears!"

Slackjaw was puzzled. They must be talking about the Dryads-the women-spirits who lived in trees. He had never met one of those, either. But, being a good member of the Pack, as his mother had taught him, he would try and live by all the rules.

All the questions. His heart burned with curiosity. He would've loved to be able to ask his parents.

_Mother-Father-why did you go away? I miss you so._

_I'm so much older now. I feel like I understand or more than I used to. The other wolves-they make fun of me. No one cares for my but my little brother. He can act so much older than me, Father. You would be proud of him. But u I can't tell him about my dreams. He would just think they're childish. And I want him to respect me.._

_Sometimes, I wonder-did Aslan come and take you? Mother used to tell me that the very good animals would go to His Kingdom when they died. Does that mean you're dead?_

_I think about you both all the time. I try to be good. Father-can I be honest? I wish the Queen had stayed in Ettinsmoor-or the Northern Wastes-or wherever she used to be from. It's just no fun anymore-always winter. I don't really miss Christmas. We didn't celebrate in the Pack like other Talking Animals. But for the other Cubs. And I would like it to be spring again. I used to love the spring flowers-the white crocuses, that would come out when there was still snow on the ground._

Two wolves were standing in the gate of the Queen's House.

The large grizzled wolf carried a leg of deer in his mouth. He approached the smaller brown wolf, laid down his meat, and asked a question. "Maugrim."

"Captain Fangdrip?"

"Have you seen my brother?"

Maugrim hung his head and hesitated to answer.

"Something troubles you, Maugrim."

"Begging the Captain's pardon—we all respect you, Sir—the men and myself—but there are just those times-" And Maugrim blurted out. "How do you stand it, Sir? A brother like that?" Then he hung his head again. "There. I've said it. You can put me on report, Sir, or assign me extra duty, or whatever you see fit."

Fangdrip laughed cruelly. "You mean how do I endure a brother who's a disgrace to his family, his unit, and his race? I ask myself that same question everyday. Our father loved him. The gods know why. Maybe for no other reason that that we were whelped together, him and I. When you get down to it, is there any other reason.? As wolves go, he makes a wonderful lapdog. Has the killer instinct of a mourning dove. Would sooner chase birds than rip out throats. Not that he would know what to do with a bird of he caught it. Would probably nurse it back to health until it was fit to fly. Would feed it his own food. Warm it with his own body. Truth be told, Maugrim, there are days that I would just soon rip out his throat myself. The Queen simply hasn't bidden me to yet. Thinks she needs all hands to search for the Children of Adam and Eve she feels are coming.''

Maugrim gestured with a paw dejectedly.. "He's out there, Sir. Being his usual self."

Fangdrip chuckled. "I get your meaning. Resume your watch on the wall."

"Yes, sir."

Fangdrip the son of Scarsnout loped out into the open meadow just beyond the front gate of the small castle. Or it had been a meadow before the long Winter, it was said—just before Fangdrip himself was born—when his brother was a cub

Maybe that was the reason his brother was how it was. It was before the stern Winter that Her Majesty had established over the entire land. The days were still gentle.

Their father Scarsnout said once, candidly_, "Maybe I was too easy on the lad when he was a cub. The Queen was still afar off north. We lived our lives like any ordinary pack. There was no Secret Police. We didn't have the entire Land to patrol"._

Originally Scarsnout had named his firstborn after his father, a most fearsome wolf: Madsnarl. But the cub proved to be a nitwit, a poor excuse for a future member of Her Majesty's Secret Police. So he renamed the cub. A name that indicated feeble-mindedness: _Slackjaw._

The wooly-headed nitwit would just chase bugs. Or leaves blowing in the wind. Or even his own tail.

Their mother had taught Slackjaw to be a lover-and had tried with Fangdrip. His father had taught him to be a hunter-a killer.

And the Queen -**his **Queen-had taught him the most important lesson of all. Not how to kill. He knew that. Not how to be fierce. That was part of his nature. The blood of his father filled his veins and the walk of his father filled his eyes. What the Queen-the Empress-the White Witch-Jadis-it mattered little what he called her. What she taught him was **why** to kill, and **why** to be fierce.

Life was more that hunting to eat. Life was more than mating and bearing young and dying. Life was more than the Pack. Life was power. Life was desire and its fulfillment. Life was not giving-as the Lion-or the Great Cat-as the Queen contemptuously called Him-had supposedly taught. If He even existed. Life was taking. And the more you took-the more life you had.

The Secret Police was the Queen's inspiration. Fangdrip's father had told him the entire story. For almost a thousand years, she had been summoning those who were disaffected with the reign of Humans and the just ways of Aslan. She drew them to the Far North. Dwarves. Giants. Dragons. Talking Animals. Dumb animals. Dryads and Naiads. And even some Humans.

First were the Giants. She assured them she was one of their own-that she was not only descended from Lilith, but from their kind-and that accounted for her greater-than-human stature.

She pledged to the Forest-Spirit folk that she was one of their own through her descent from the Jinn.

Some who went were changed.. The envy they had of humans inspired a desire to look like human-at least partially. And so grazing cattle became Minotaurs. Roaming wolves became Werewolves. Cave-dwelling bats became Vampires. All grotesque mockeries of the image of Adam. All with a hunger for human flesh and a thirst for human blood.

The Dryads and Naiads who were weary of such peaceful pursuits as tending the forests and rivers applied themselves to the study of Black Magic and Forbidden Arts. No longer were they tied to a single tree or stream. They could wander where they would, creating mischief. They became Hags.

The Queen beheld her handiwork and was pleased. But the Secret Police-they were the Queen's elite. Swift of foot, sharp of eye, quick of mind. They were her eyes and ears, her hands and feet. They alone of her followers could cross the line of demarcation.

The Apple Tree of Protection that bore silver fruit was all that held Jadis at bay. And the Secret Police could leave and enter either domain with impunity. They brought her news. And she sent them forth on errands.

The King, Collin VII, who dwelt at Cair Paravel, had always sent loyal subjects, both Human and Dryad north to tend the Tree.

The Secret Police drove them off-even killing some.

The wolves gnawed at the bark around the trunk of the Tree. They fouled the ground around the Tree with their droppings. The Tree began to sicken.

The barrier weakened. Some got through. Bogles began to haunt parts of the forest. The Hags spread disease. Vampires, Werewolves, and the Secret Police hunted down the subjects of the realm.

It was the nine-hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Royal House. Nine centuries since the crowning of King Frank I and Queen Helen. It had been a difficult year for the realm. Disease, and drought had troubled the land. King Collin VII had traveled through the land, meeting with his subjects-Human, Talking Animal, Faun, Centaur, Marshwiggle, Dryad-all the peoples, encouraging them to be of stout heart, and to let those who had some to share with those who had none. He himself brought wagonfuls of bread, wine, fruit, cheese, and other such items from the royal stores to follow the royal procession, and distributed to the most needy. He hoped that the coming Christmas that year would mark a turning point, the beginning of a better year to follow.

It was on the night of the Winter Solstice-the longest night of the year, when the darkness was deepest. A light snow began to fall, as far south as Archenland, and the folk were gladdened at the beauty of it.

Jadis and her host gathered at the northern frontier. She had spent nine centuries cultivating her powers and gathering her resources.

The Tree of Protection was gaunt and shriveled, bare of leaf. She commanded two Giants to chop it down.

A few strokes of their axes, and it was felled.

She pointed at it. "Burn!" she cried, and it burst into flame.

The Evil Folk gibbered and hooted. They jumped and danced around the burning Tree.

She raised her hands to command silence. And facing south-

-Ages before, she had spoken a single word-the Deplorable Word-and had erased life on her world-

-Facing south, she shrieked, **"Sleet and Snow! / Wind and Woe! / Afflict the Land! / Whence I Stand! / To Desert's Gate! / Seal Its Fate!"**

A frigid hurricane blast blew south-a blast that uprooted trees and dislodged boulders all the way to the Calormene desert.

She commanded her Captain, Scarsnout the wolf, and her general, Groteskos the giant Cyclops. "Go! Spare no one!"

The Wolves were the lightning advance troops. The Giants were the shock troop infantry.

They ran tirelessly, covering the land like a tidal wave.

Every living soul in Cair Paravel was slaughtered-Human, Dwarf, Centaur, and Talking Animal-except two. Collin's youngest daughter, the Princess Ann, astride her protector, a Centaur, escaped and made their way to Archenland.

The guards were overwhelmed and savaged by the feral Secret Police. The Royal Family were pulled from their beds and died in the midst of a frenzy of growls and teeth.

On the plains and in the woods, the Fauns, Dwarves, and Dryads were up that night celebrating the Solstice and preparing for the Yule Feast and the coming of Father Christmas. Many had gathered at the Dancing Lawn, just south of the Plain of Beruna and just west of the Stone Table.

At the first blast of the gale, they broke and scattered. Many hapless ones either froze to death or were massacred.

Those were luckiest who had burrows and nests to hide in-or wings and fleet feet to outdistance their pursuers.

By sunrise, the Queen's armies had reached the southern border. The wolves were exhausted.

The armies of both Calormen and Archenland had gathered. They need not have feared.

As the Queen had instructed Scarsnout and Groteskos: "All I want is Narnia. It is the land most valued by the Great Cat. Archenland is not fat and lazy. It's king is a soldier and lives in readiness of an attack from Calormen. And Calormen is the dwelling place of one like me. You would not be able to oppose him-but neither is he strong enough to stand against me."

And they realized she meant the one called Tash.

But what the day before a pleasant wooded land was now a frozen waste. And the border was ringed as far as eye could see east and west with Giants, both two-and one-eyed, bellowing and brandishing their weapons, and all manner of misshapen ghoulish creatures. Such a sight gave many a Calormene and Archenlander warrior shivers for the rest of their lives.

Jadis gathered her armies at the Stone Table on what would have been Christmas Day. She addressed them with a fine mockery. "Since Father Christmas did not see fit visit Narnia this year, I will give gifts to all my worthy followers!"

A scornful chuckle arose from the host.

To the giants she gave Ettinsmoore, the land between Narnia and the Far North.

To the Hags she gave the glens and glades and pond, where the Dryads and Naiads dwelt. What had formerly been dappled grassy sunlit meadows and wooded gardens would now become dank festering bogs and dark haunted woods. And so it would be said that one could not tell what tree housed a true unchanged Dryad and what tree contained a shriveled Bogle or Hag.

To the Vampires, she gave the mountain peaks, the high places, in the mountains to the south by Archenland, to the west, by the Cauldron Pool, and to the north, by Ettinsmoor and her castle.

To the loyal Dwarves, she gave the mines that their cousins had once dug for jewels and metal.

And to all her followers, she gave such portions of land that they might rule as princes, tyrannizing the Talking Animals.

To the Secret Police, she gave the authority to patrol the land, guarding treason and terrorizing whom they would.

And she gave the bodies of the fallen as a gruesome Yuletide meal to those of her followers who delighted in raw flesh.

The Queen would not dwell in Cair Paravel. There remained a hint of a Presence she and her servants could not abide. She had her palace built to the north, by the Lantern Waste, between two hills, near the headwaters of the Branching River.

Scarsnout came back proud and triumphant. He mated with Snowbib. She bore a single cub-and Scarsnout bestowed a fearful name on him-Fangdrip.

"The Queen looked upon you-and was pleased with you," Scarsnout would tell his younger son. He hardly could endure to look upon his older son-the feeble-minded nitwit.

Scarsnout never mentioned it to Fangdrip-a shadow fell between the two consorts. The gentle Snowbib knew-as did everyone-the awful slaughter he had led his wolves in at Cair Paravel.

Before he was even weaned, the Queen took Fangdrip into her house. While still a cub, she nestled him in her lap. She hand-fed him. He slept in her chambers at the foot of her bed

And when he was of age, she bestowed a great Gift.

She took him aside and divulged a great secret. "Ages ago, there was a Golden Apple Tree in a garden at the Edge of the World. The Great Cat sent the Son of Adam astride a Winged Horse to retrieve one of the apples-and bring it back to Narnia. I ran like the wind-and arrived before him. I tried to persuade him to eat an apple himself-or at least to take one to his ailing mother. His old fool of an uncle it was who devised the magic to bridge the gap between worlds. A rambling coot. The boy, though, showed some promise. I sensed in him the Mark-the potential for Dark Magic. I offered to make him a King-to rule at my side. He refused. He swallowed whole the Great Cat's way of thinking. The worst for him. I, on the other hand, gorged myself on them. I became immortal-filled with power. I now present you with the same choice, son of Scarsnout."

The Queen brought what looked like a jewel as large as her hand. It had been expertly shaped and glimmered like a candle.

"Encased in this block of ice is one of the apple cores, which I have preserved.. I have planted all the seeds but one, trying to grow a tree-without success. The world has grown larger than what it was in those younger days. The accursed Tree of Protection hemmed me in my old realm far to the north. I could not go back-and all whom I sent never returned."

Fangdrip took the ice block in his jaws and cracked it. The core was a shriveled and faded thing, but it still shone with a faint glow. She took it in the palm of her hand. He gobbled it in a single swallow. It was hardly the equivalent of a single morsel of food-but he felt an energy coursing through his veins. A mad light shown in his eyes. He rested his head in the Queen's lap as she sat on her throne, and she stroked his fur. His mind and heart was filled with wicked lust and malevolent delight.

"You are now mine, body and soul, son of Scarsnout. You will be my right hand-my greatest servant. What you have consumed was not enough to make you immortal-as I am. But it will give you a strength and longevity you would not otherwise have known."

By the time he was fully grown, he was at least twice as large as any other wolf..

And his heart was knit wholly to his Queen-so much so that he denounced his own mother.

"My Lady," he would say, with shame. And then he would relate what he had heard.

His soft and gentle mother was trying to win back the heart of Scarsnout and the Pack. Telling stories of the Great Cat. And Father Christmas. She had even tried to sway the heart of her second-born.

Jadis listened with somber face. "I suspected as much, my faithful cub. I have many ears." She addressed him as though she were his mother.

Then he disclosed the entire story. Snowbib, with an old Faun, Rimnok, of the Lantern Waste, had gone to Cair Paravel, and had buried the fallen with honor-King Collin VII and all the Royal Household. And Scarsnout had gone with her.

The Queen had flown into a frightful rage. Her rant could be heard from the turrets to the dungeons. "That doe-eyed brood-hound corrupting my Secret Police!"

Then her anger cooled. "Fangdrip," she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"My Lady."

"Are you for me?"

"To the death."

"Share your mind. What does the Pack do with an unfit wolf?"

"We drive them away."

"And what if that wolf is held dear? As dear as one's own limb? As dear as my right hand? What if a wolf is-caught-in old and quaint notions of conduct? Caught like a leg in a trap?"

Fangdrip caught the import of her words. "A trapped leg means a helpless wolf, my Lady. A leg that will rot and poison the entire body. It must be chewed off. The leg will be missed-but the body will cope-and live."

The Queen looked at Fangdrip evilly. "We understand each other, son of my Captain. Summon the Pack. Tomorrow night. In the courtyard."

Tomorrow night came. Her Throne was set immovable in the castle-but a smaller chair had been set up in the courtyard. The place was lit with torches. All the wolves were gathered, except-

"My Captain," asked the Queen. "Where is your eldest son-Slackjaw? Did I not call for the Pack?"

Scarsnout held himself stiffly. "Your Majesty-as Captain of the Secret Police, my life is yours-but as Leader of the Pack, I must insist that I retain the right to decide when it meets and what it does."

There were muttering among the other wolves. Just such an issue could be felt to be coming to a head for a long time.

The Queen played absently with her silver scepter. "That is a old-fashioned notion, my Captain. Times change. There is a new order. The Police and the Pack are one. And for the good of my Realm, it is I who decide the course of the Police. Now-where is your eldest son?"

Scarsnout began to snarl. "The lad has the mind of a sheep. He would only be confused by these gatherings. He is harmless. I sent him away to play."

Jadis arose from her throne. "You sent him away because you feared he would bear witness against his mother-as his brother has done! He is too witless to lie!"

A clamor broke out. Scarsnout's hackles raised. "Of what crime would either of my sons bear with against their mother, your Majesty?"

Snowbib remained as serene as as a gentle breeze on a spring day.

Fangdrip sat beside the Queen. He grinned evilly. "You know what offense, my father.

"Fangdrip!" said Jadis curtly. "Announce the charges!"

Fangdrip recited in a loud voice, as though rehearsed, "Snowbib! Daughter of Graytail! You are accused of Speaking Malicious Lies and Spreading False Rumors Concerning the Person and Lineage of Her Majesty, the Rightful Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Isles, and of Aiding and Abetting the Enemies of the Realm!"

The clamor among the wolves rose to a tumult. Every male wolf there had shed Narnian blood in the Solstice Conquest-but respect for Snowbib was still strong in their hearts.

"Silence!" howled Fangdrip. "The Queen speaks!"

"Are you Leader, my son-or am I?" growled Scarsnout dangerously.

"That remains to be seen, my father," replied Fangdrip threateningly. "A toothless old wolf may be set aside, if the Pack is agreeable."

"It remains to be seen who is toothless, " said Scarsnout. It was an empty threat. Fangdrip was larger by half that his father.

Jadis raised her hand, and there was silence. She pointed to Snowbib. "Did you spread the rumor that I am not Human-and therefore not eligible to rule Narnia?"

"Yes," answered Snowbib. "By your Majesty's own words-you are a daughter of Lilith and the Jinn-."

Jadis cut her off. "That will suffice!" She pointed a menacing finger at Snowbib. "Have you kept alive the Forbidden Stories-the stories of the Great Cat-the preposterous tale how He made Narnia by singing it into existence?"

"Yes." Snowbib lifted her head proudly. Except for the Queen and Fangdrip, every heart there marveled at her courage.

"And did you lead the heart of my Captain astray by returning to Cair Paravel-and **burying the bodies of those whom we killed**?"

"Yes." The single word hung on the air like a trumpet note. Some of the wolves hung their heads. The old teachings had not died out. Shame for the murderous slaughter still lived in their hearts.

"There you have it!" crowed Jadis. "She admits her guilt!"

"Your Majesty-I claim the right of the Pack to speak!" said Snowbib "To tell my own story!"

The wolves looked darkly at each other.

Jadis frowned. "We are inclined to be reasonable. You may make your defense."

"I challenge the validity of this trial! These offenses are against you-and the Crown-not the Pack! If this a Trial by Pack, let it be held in the proper place! In the woods! Not your castle!"

The wolves muttered again. It was true. The daughter of Graytail knew Pack law better than Her Majesty-or Fangdrip, apparently.

Scarsnout lay a cautious paw on her paw. "My love," he whispered.

"Fear not those who can kill only the body, my love," she whispered back.

Fangdrip snarled, looking at both his parents and his Queen. _She still rules his heart. She could still ruin all._

Jadis was angry. "Foxtail vixen! She-cur! Mongrel squaw! A Trial by Pack is being held in the proper place-as I deem it!"

These were deadly insults to any wolf-especially to a daughter of a wolf so important as Greytail

One wolf leaned to another. "Bonechew-the Queen is failing. If old Greytail were alive, her cause would be hopeless."

"Hush, young Maugrim!" hissed Bonechew. "Greytail is long dead! And the Queen is our ruler!"

And Snowbib did a rare thing. It was an old custom among Talking Animals. Rising on two feet. She was on eye level with Jadis.

A hush fell among the entire courtyard.

And Snowbib spoke. "No! If this is a is a real trial, let me be tried by light of day! And if I am accused of a crime against the Realm let me be tried in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel, before the assembled Talking Animals!"

These were thrilling words. Jadis stood with open mouth, shocked.

The heart of every wolf was lifted up. Snowbib was reciting the Old Law verbatim. Scarsnout's heart burned with love and admiration. And he mourned anew for the blood he had shed in the sacred halls.

Jadis tried to speak, but no words came. Fangdrip looked dubiously on his Queen.

But Snowbib was not finished. "Or-if I am to be tried by a High Crime, let me be taken to the place of judgment, where are etched in granite the Laws and Statutes of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea, that have been made known to us by His Son, the King of the Wood, Aslan!"

Jadis was livid with fury. She gripped the armrests of her throne. "That **Name**! How **dare** you? I **forbid** it-!"

But Snowbib cut her off. "-Let me be taken to the **Stone Table**!"

A deadly hush fell over the entire courtyard.

Jadis slowly rose from her throne. She spoke through clenched teeth, biting off her words. Your primary offense is not against the Realm. It is against the Pack. Your appeal is denied."

No one voiced it aloud. Snowbib had played a brilliant tactic. Jadis had hoped to deal with her in secret. But she had set turned the entire trial upside down, recalling Old Narnian Law-and even recalling memories of the Lion.

The damage Snowbib was doing to Jadis's regime-by her secret efforts to keep alive the knowledge of the Lion-were just exceeded a hundredfold by her public declaration. And Jadis herself had handed her the opportunity.

But there now could be only one tragic end to this scenario.

"Scarsnout!" barked Jadis. "As my Captain, to whom is your supreme loyalty?"

He glared at her. "To the Pack, your Majesty."

She raised her scepter. "Prove your loyalty to **me**! Dispatch me this mate of yours, who challenges my authority!"

Scarsnout snarled. His mate was as good as dead. In fact, they both were. But he jumped to the defense of his beloved. He leapt at the Queen with teeth bared.

-Or would have-had not Jadis pointed her silver scepter at him. He was turned to stone in mid-leap. He would remain that way, forever.

And so Jadis unveiled first one fearful new weapon-then another.

"Fangdrip! You are my new Captain! Fulfill your Queen's demand."

And Fangdrip slowly turned to his mother.

She looked at him, with her great dark eyes. "I love you, my son."

"Yes, Mother," he said with a ghoulish grin.

So Fangdrip leapt upon her with a mad frenzy. And at the behest of his new mistress, clamped his jaws on his own mother's neck and ripped her throat out. The snow-white bib was stained bright red with life-blood. The gleaming dark eyes glassed over. And Captain Fangdrip was baptized into the service of the Queen of Narnia with the blood of his mother.

The other wolves stared horror-struck.

"By the Whiskers of the Great Cat," whispered Maugrim, shocked.

"Stow that kind of talk, Maugrim!" whispered Bonechew harshly. "No more mention of Him within these walls! Not tonight!"

Fangdrip overheard-and cared not. He had put the devils' fear into the hearts of his men. He had showed them how it was to be done in the new order-be like **him**, or end up like **her**.

He would've gobbled Snowbib's carcass, had Her Majesty commanded him.

Instead, she had it hung up over the gate. As a warning.

And long after the decayed remains of Snowbib had finally been thrown to the vultures, the petrified remains of Scarsnout stood frozen in mid-leap. His was the first of many whose stone figures would fill the Queen's courtyard.

Fangdrip went into the wood the following day. He found Slackjaw wandering around and around the same clump bushes.

Slackjaw greeted him joyfully. "Brother! I found these wolf tracks in the snow! I've been following them!"

_Following his own tracks-the bloody fool. _Fangdrip had intended to treat his brother the same way he had treated his mother-but he suddenly decided to let the simpleton live. He greeted his brother also with laughter-and could barely keep a straight face on the way back to the castle. Once there, he sent Slackjaw away for his customary afternoon nap-and finally collapsed in guffaws

Maugrim was drawn to the sound. "Captain?"

Fangdrip could hardly talk. "Mau-grim-by-Charn-my-bro-ther!" He rolled on his back, helpless with hilarity. Finally, he caught his breath. "By Tash, Maugrim-by Ermina! By Bism! By Hell! By Her Majesty's Wand! Was there ever a greater fool in this world-or any world?" And he gave way to mirth once more.

Maugrim frowned. "Didn't he even see her body hung over the gate?"

The courtyard echoed with Fangdrip's hooting. "The dupe never looks up! He just stares at the ground! I swear-a sparrow could drop an acorn on his head, and his brain is so small, he would suffer a concussion!"

Jadis summoned her Captain. "My Captain-can you vouch for the loyalty of your brother-or is he soft-hearted as well as soft-headed?'

Fangdrip tried mightily not to burst into jollity before her. "My Lady-a snowflake has more wit than he. If he were told that urine would quench his thirst, he would let every wolf in the Secret Police piss into his mouth. Grant me a boon if you would. He affords me much amusement. If he proves troublesome, I will personally slay him."

Jadis stared skeptically. "I hope you're right, my loyal Captain. The Great Cat has a way of using those with simple minds and simple hearts. Do not underestimate our foe.

But for almost the last century of the Queen's Winter, the simple-hearted and -headed brother of the Captain of the Secret Police had not grown wiser with age.

Devils of Charn! The stupid cur would chase anything! Flies! Dead leaves blowing in the wind! Snowflakes! And not with the intent of catching it! He just sat there, tongue lolling out of his mouth!

Scarsnout had displeased Her Majesty-and had earned himself a place in the Queen's courtyard-as a statue.

On this day, Fangdrip brought a haunch of deer meat to Slackjaw.

Often the wolves brought down their own prey

But as Secret Police, they were entitled to the choicest portions from the Queen's subjects.

The Queen Herself still sometimes fed Fangdrip by hand. And after the meal, he would lay his head in her lap. She would scratch his ears.

The other wolves would leer at the Queen and her Favorite, and chuckle evilly.

And Slackjaw would gaze admiringly on his brother. "How the Queen loves my brother."

And the other wolves would burst into wicked laughter, much to Slackjaw's puzzlement.

All too often, they ignored one of the most solemn Laws of Narnia. They killed-and ate-a Talking Animal.

And when Fangdrip brought his brother a remnant of meat, Slackjaw would ask in all innocence-was it meat permissible to eat?

And Fangdrip would smile. "Of course, dear brother." -And say to himself-_One day, I should tell him the truth. If the shock did not kill him, it would kill that timid rabbit soul within him. And when he recovered from his nasty surprise, he would be a stronger wolf for it. A true son of Madsnarl, fed by strange meat. Yes. Perhaps I shall-unless Her Majesty asks me to send him to meet his mother._

There he was-frisking with a field mouse? Fangdrip shook his head in disgust. The poor fool could hardly bear to harm a nestling bird. And had a head as empty as a gourd "Slackjaw!" he shouted.

The fool glanced up, panting like a frisky puppy.

Every now and then, even Fangdrip's amusement with his brother's conduct gave way to impatience. Now was such a time.

It wasconduct unbecoming a member of Her Majesty's Secret Police

First Fangdrip fetched him a blow with his paw. Then he opened his jaws. Growling, he seized Slackjaw by hackles and forced him to the ground. It was the way of the alpha wolf in the Pack.

And Slackjaw was contrite. "I'm sorry, my brother. That last thing I would want to do is to disgrace you in the sight of our brother wolves and our gentle Queen."

It made Fangdrip want to laugh almost as hard as the other wolves did. _His brother wolves! Our gentle Queen! In the entire world, is there a feebler mind than his?_

Slackjaw saw his brother's smile and was reassured of the bond of love between them.

Fangdrip glanced up at the son. "Come, brother. Night is falling. The Queen will return soon."

Slackjaw ran after Fandrip like playful puppy. Maugrim, Feytooth, and the others sniggered evilly.

Maugrim snarled at Slackjaw as he followed Fangrip through the gate, and nipped at him. Slackjaw yipped just a little.

"Brother," asked Slackjaw in wide-eyed innocence, "Why is Maugrim always annoyed at me?"

"Annoyed?" exclaimed Fangdrip, in false astonishment. "Not at all! As I am-he is merely concerned for your safety! Since you are the oldest among us, he has deep respect for you. That is merely his crude way of expressing his anxiety. He himself has confided to me-how saddened he would be if you met your end at the hands of our enemies while frolicking with the butterflies. Therefore, my brother-you should take your rest before the evening patrol."

Slackjaw smiled, and nuzzled his brother snout to snout, as Snowbib used to do.

Fangdrip whispered mockingly to Maugrim as he passed by, "You wonder why I keep him alive? That's why! To amuse us! For our hilarity! In the history of the world, was there ever a greater simpleton?"

There was the sound of bells in the courtyard. And the crack of a whip. Both Fangdrip and Maugrim hastened to their posts. For this sound was not joyful. It was the sound of Her Majesty's sleigh, pulled by the reindeer. And the whip of Ginarrbrik the Dwarf, her driver. She had returned from another ride through the wood-looking for Children of Adam and Eve.

And Slackjaw went back to sleep, dreaming of the Children of Adam and Eve called Ron and K.P.

_**to be continued**_

Okay. You had to have spotted the classical Narnian character. It was Jadis.

I invented some backstory and filled in some details to explain how Jadis made her bid for power. I'm sorry if I made the details a little gory. But Jadis is not a kind lady. She is the prefigurement of Snow White's stepmother, who wanted the girl's heart in a jewelry box. She is the embodiment of The Godfather's Don Corleone-Josef Stalin-Machiavelli's Prince.

We will see more of Slackjaw-and Fangdrip-and Jadis. Next chpt.-back to our little group of travelers. I promise.

BTW-the names Fangdrip uses when swearing-Ermina-that's another witch in Narnia-more on her in upcoming chpt's-Bism-the underground land-mentioned in The Silver Chair.

There's a Faun. Rimnok. More of him, too, coming up.

Folks, I apologize. I'm just dropping OC's like leaves in autumn. Maybe, if the mail indicates it, I'll take up a chpt with a list of who's who.


	9. Chapter 9:pieces on the gameboard

Allow me to tell all my readers. I'm trying to answer all my old reviews from back to 2006. And when I come up for air, then I will get to the more recent entries in my inbox. Thank you all for writing. It's because of you that I keep writing.

I know of fan-authors who can turn out a chpt. a day. They just rack up chpts like a pro golfer sinks puts--or an expert volleyball player spikes--or a basketball player slam dunks baskets. You get my drift.

That's not my case. It might be weeks or months. My plot bunny likes to play the shell game. So when an idea comes, I gotta jump on it before it gets away.

This chpt is a cheat. Not a bit of action goes on. Know how we come up with throwaway characters? This is a throwaway chpt. I wrote it for one reason. My fellow fan author screaming phoenix responded favorably to my offer to whip up a list of the cast of characters. And so I will oblige (him? her? I don't know your gender!)

In fact--maybe I should kick myself--I even introduced more names--all the lieutenants and sub-commanders of Jadis. All these characters will be used to one degree or another.

And I went further still. I tried to take the basic geo-political framework of the Narnian world--Narnia, Archenland, Calormen, and Telmar--and I tried to put a spin on it like Tolkien does for Middle Earth in the Appendix of ROTK. A brief explanation of how they all interrelate. (Sigh.) I may have made the sitch worse by making it even more complicated.

screaming phoenix, if you need me to, I can make a scorecard to explain the scorecard--or is that too much of a good thing? LOL. Guffaw.

Cajun bear: as usual, love your insights and analysis. You make it sound like I actually said something halfway intelligent. Your review reminded me of the movie The Killing Fields that showed life in Cambodia back when the communist Kymer Rouge seized power. The children were taught through chalk and blackboard lessons to sell their parents out to the government and to love and obey Anka, the political party. The Nazis started a group that was a grotesque mockery of the Boy Scouts: the Hitler Jugendbund --the HitlerYouth Movement. The Soviets did the same thing with the Komosol Revolutionary Youth Movement. And Mao Zedong with the youth of China with the Red Guard. And African warlords with their children's militia. Same old sh*t, pardon my language.

Acknowledgements: Kim and Ron are from the Kim Possible Show, created by Mark McCortle and Bob Schooley.

Jadis, the Lady of the Green Kirtle, Telmar, Archenland, Calormen, Tash, Tashbaan, the Tisroc, the River God, Father Christmas, Frank the cabbie, and the Lion are from the Chronicles of Narnia, by C.S. Lewis.

Otmin the Minotaur, Orcius the Centaur, and Ginnabrik the Dwarf are from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe movie.

Lon-dun-Ing-land is the Narnianization of London, where Jadis appeared for so brief a time in The Magician's Nephew.

Every other name is mine--and what fun they were to devise.

On with the show. screaming phoenix, your scorecard.

Vaya con Dios, my readers

_**THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**chpt 9**_

_**pieces on a gameboard**_

The Traitor considered carefully his next move. He envisioned the current situation like a giant game board.

On one side was the Lion, the unseen King, the Son of an unseen Father.

Below Him were His two emissaries, the Leopards, Sinewyn and Melandra, who spoke for Him.

They had assembled the expedition.

The man-at-arms was the Centaur Kalderion Goldenmane, son of Anamalek.

With them also were the Dwarves, the sons of Grimble, Rimdiffle the armor-smith, himself a mighty warrior, and Turnskillet the cook.

Their mission was to take the Children of Adam and Eve, Kimberly Ann Possible and Ronald Adrian Stoppable, to meet the Lion face-to-face in the Little Land of the Sanctuary of the Lion's Name.

Three had joined them on the way: the Birch Tree Dryad. Athalia, and the two Fae, or fairies, as they were known to the Humans, Freya Lacewing and Safra Flutterleaf.

On the other side of the game board was Her Majesty, the Queen of Narnia, Jadis, whom the rebels referred to as the White Witch.

Her lieutenants were many. And a fearful brood they were.

Groteskos, lord of the Giants of Ettinsmoor, who had commanded the Queen's army on the Winter Solstice night of the conquest of Narnia, ninety years before.

Otmin the Minotaur, the new General.

Ungnauk, Chief of the Cyclops.

Gorgosa, Prince of the Vampires.

Dame Clingshroud , sibyl of the Hags.

Taintshade, the Bogle, and all his vaporous folk.

Meduseo, the Werewolf.

Darkkaw the Crow--who soared far above the land and was Her Majesty's eyes.

Ginarrbrik, of the Dwarves loyal to the Queen, who managed both her household and her sleigh team.

Fangdrip, the Wolf, the Captain of the Secret Police--the most dire, the most terrible--rumored to have slain his own mother, Snowbib, daughter of old Greytail. And also rumored to have the Queen's unnatural affections.

And of course, himself--the Traitor. The Queen's ally in the guise of the Lion's ally.

He did not call himself a Traitor. At worst, he was an Opportunist--using dishonest means to bring about what the land needed.

The Humans were Strangers. After all, what kind of creature were they? A type of Talking Animal? Were they a god, like the River God--like Mother Ceres--like Father Christmas? Were they even a combination of god and Animal, like the noble Centaurs, the rugged Dwarves, the fair Dryads, or the nimble Fauns? Were they even some comical thing, like the Marshwiggles?

No, they were none of the above. Weak, petty, treacherous as serpents, rotten as dung--poor excuses for species blessed with the gift of mind and speech. As fragile as a dead leaf. A breath of wind, and they blew away. A handful of years, and they were feeble demented old cripples.

Even as the two foolish little Human brats, Kimberly and Ronald quibbled, spilling the secret of the Book--whose significiance no one realized. And breaking Athalia's love-smitten soul.

And to such as these was entrusted the rule of Narnia! No. The Traitor thought of himself as a Patriot. A Loyalist.

The Queen had as much right to the Throne as any son of Frank Cobbleton, the cabbie from Lon-dun, Ing-land the city of old Terra. And she had the strength--the ability to seize control. She did not have to appeal to empty traditions and outdated claims.

The Traitor must now consider carefully. He played this game often in his mind--visualizing the game pieces of both sides. It helped to imagine himself as a Narnian loyal to Sinewyn. It prevented any slip of the tongue or inconsistency of behavior that would give him away. But then, on times like this, he would take the mask off in his heart. He would look at the game pieces and consider his strategy. In this game, if one could capture a piece of the other side, that piece was not merely taken away. It could be _used against _the opposing side. Fate had revealed the game piece most vulnerable to capture--Athalia. Now all that was needed was to maneuver her--to manipulate her mind and heart. He had studied his Queen well. He was practiced in the art of deception.

If he could, he might dare to use it on her--but she was already ages old even when awakened on her old world, Charn. She was as far above him in the tactics of trickery as he was above the Dryad.

There were other names throughout Narnia. Orcius the Centaur, and Rimnok the Faun. But Orcius, famed as he was, was but one voice. And Rimnok was a stone figurine in the Queen's courtyard--and his son was a spy for the Queen--like the Traitor himself.

There were other kingdoms and lands throughout the world which held other powers. In the north, dwelling among the Giants was a beautiful Lady of the Green Kirtle. A lovely Princess in appearance, an immortal enchantress in reality. The Kings of the Giants sought her counsel.

To the west were the Telmarines--more quivering pasty-faced humans--barbarians, fighting amongst each other. Easy prey for the Queen--someday.

To the south were the Archenlanders--a sad remnant of the Narnians. The youngest daughter of the last Narnian king, Anne, daughter of Collin VII, had fled there after the Solstice Conquest.

Further south still were the dark-faced Humans--the folk of Calormen. A cruel ancient empire, steeped in lore and enchantment--much like Charn, the Queen had once admitted. For this reason, they earned her grudging admiration. Their Tisroc ruled in the rich and decadent city of Tashbaan. And they worshiped a god--Tash--to whom they offered burnt sacrifice--either Narnians or Archenlanders captured in battle--or their own slaves.

But behind the façade of the bird-faced idol was a real Tash--a demonic spirit who exercised influence through guile, like the Lady of the Green Kirtle.

Between Tash, the Lady, and Jadis, therefore, there existed an uneasy truce. Each taking the other's measure, hopeful of the other's weakness, fearful of the other's ambition.

This then was the game. The next move was his

There was another game on old Charn, it was said. A game of chance. A game of playing cards. A game as much of bluff and intimidation as of a winning hand. It was called Royal House. A similar game existed in Terra. It was called Poker. Andrew Ketterly had tried to teach it to Jadis.

In both games, if one was careful, one could smuggle a card in one's clothing. This was how the Traitor saw himself. He was the ace up the sleeve--or the Throne in the cuff--depending on which game was being played. And he would be used to obtain the winning hand.

This was another of the Lion's antiquated rules. Right and wrong. The Queen played by no such silly rules. If some action was needed to win, then that action was right. And that was why the Queen would win.

Sometimes it entered the Traitor's mind. The uneasy question. Was the Deep Magic of the Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea real? Was even the Emperor real?

And then he realized--to even ask the question was its own answer. The Lion--like the Humans--had lost the right to rule by neglect. A true King did not visit his domain once or twice an eon to see if his subjects remained loyal. The citizens were like cattle. They tended to wander. They needed a strong hand. They needed to be reminded not to follow every foolish tale of greener grass on the other side of the pasture. And the Traitor would help the stronger hand to prevail.

_**to be continued**_

BTW--can you spot the hidden reference to a classical Narnian character? The son of Rimnok the faun? Who's a spy for Jadis?


	10. Ch10:the Birch girl's love and treason

I am so cruel. Building up expectation that I would get back to our little group of travelers. And then introducing a "scorecard chapter".

The truth is, it gave me time to put the finishing touches in this chpt.

There's a scene from the Harry Potter book and movie, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Albus Dumbldore is before the Pensieve, drawing thoughts from his head with his wand in little strings of luminous matter

That's how it is for me to draw forth my writing. A few words--a few images appear. I write them down, or record them on my cell phone--or even--if my digital camera is with me--using the movie mode to record my thoughts on.

And if that doesn't get the stares--some nut case talking to his camera. I shrug and say, "It's a Dictaphone."

And then the rest has to be drawn out--like removing a sliver from a finger--or trying to coax the cat down from the tree--or the toddler to go to bed--you parents--you know what I mean.

C.S. Lewis had to get into the head of the Devil to write The Screwtape Letters. He didn't like it one bit. And I had to get into the head of the Traitor to make him sound convincing.

That's what profilers do. Get into the heads of the criminal offenders. And as St. Paul says, "…We are not ignorant of (Satan's) devices. " (2 Corinthians 2:11) Or as a contemporary version reads: "We know what goes on in his mind."

There are two Voices in the world today. Many issues confront humanity. The sanctity of life and the experimentation with living tissue--not just animal, but human as well. Human trafficking. The sex trade. Personal liberty as opposed to political and religious oppression. Pollution. Ecomonic exlploitation. Poverty.

Issues confront us personally, also. Addictive substances. Addictive behavior. Marital faithfulness. Integrity with time and money. Even simple things like honesty.

One Voice tells us to cater to ourselves. We are the ultimate arbiter of our opinions and our values. Another Voice tells us that we are not the King of our lives--that the good things we have--our brains, our looks, our good lives--aren't because we're All That. If we have, we need to share with those who have not. And if we have not, we're not automatically entitled to have by any means necessary.

If we look at the evidence for the existence of God--like the order found in Nature, and people's good side--we have to also be honest and say that there's evidence for the other viewpoint, the disorder in the Nature, and the evil in people's hearts and the world. A British scientist has written a few books about the "God-delusion". He considers belief in God a virus that must be removed from the world--like it was smallpox or AIDS. I know his name--and many of you do, too.

Am I saying that all atheists are bad? Nope. And that's part of the problem. It doesn't help when those who claim to believe in God behave worse than those who claim not to. I know lots of good people who are sociable and trustworthy, who don't care much about the Man Upstairs, who I would sooner trust when I need a favor. They appear to listen to the good Voice with greater clarity. And that's a mystery beyond my understanding. That's why we are told not to judge--we can't see in a person's heart. And that is why He requires faith--reason will take us only so far. And from there we must choose weather nor not to believe.

Whoever would come to God must believe that He exists, and rewards those who earnestly seek Him. (Hebrews 11:!)

But I too have feet of clay. I too rationalize my failures to live up to a higher standard.

trecebo: did you catch your breather? We're about to go places.

CajunBear73: I wept when I saw that film. The Killing Fields. I shuddered when he stumbled into the pit of skeletons. I wept when they stepped on a land mine. And he was the only survivor. Even the child he had with him died in his arms.

At the Oscars, the actor, Hang S. Nor, hefted his statuette aloft and shouted out, "I thank God Buddha!" And you know what? I didn't even mind that he was mentioning the Buddhist god instead of the Christian One. Because he was so humble. Because, like Anne Frank--like Corrie ten Boom--like Pope John Paul II--like Alexander Solzhenitsyn--like Dith Pran himself--he had been to the camps. He was a sufferer.

In his book, it tells how Nor married while in captivity. His wife and their baby died in childbirth. Sorrow upon sorrow.

And he gave the credit for his Academy Award to a higher Power than himself.

Logan: is this update soon enough?

screaming phoenix: okay--I'll blame you. (Mel Gibson in Lethal Weapon 2: "BIG SMILE--BIG SMILE--BIIIIIG SMILE!") Check--male gender. That statement of yours a few reviews ago: about Ron being on his way to learning the "care and feeding of Kim Possible". That statement rocks. It is sheer poetry. I am putting it on my profile as a tagline.

And let this grateful American lay aside his laptop for a moment to stand with his hand over his heart, in recognition of one who has served his country--you.

And yes--you guessed the identity of the classical Narnia character. Tumnus the faun.

Ninja Master: your praise warms my heart. Write a KP-LOTR crossover? Probably not. As it is, I'm spread as thin as butter on toast. Unless some magic med we haven't tried yet can break a lifetime of Glacially Slow work ethic.

Bobboky: dude--what do you do? Stare at the "Just In" FF-dot-net page? Because I was staring at the "Reviews" section like a nervous Broadway actor, and it was 20 minutes from the posting of my chpt to the posting of your review. And I humbly thank you--from "good" to "very very good".

In this chpt, I have retold a scene from The Magician's Nephew in greater detail. The final confrontation between Jadis and her sister.

Regarding the incident referred to in the story: the Lion changing the entire population of Calormen to non-Talking Animals for their wickedness. It is referred to in the Narnian Timeline, found, among other places, at Wikipedia. I have consulted several fan-sites around the 'Net. It is a matter of debate whether it means the human populace or the Talking Animal populace. I will be honest. It bothers me. I don't know what Lewis had in mind, apart from illustrating that the Almighty sometimes acts in judgement. Just like it bothers me that God had entire nations put to the sword in the Old Testament--man, woman, and child. Just like the concept of Hell. It's another one of those things that makes people reject Christianity. But I cannot just avoid the issue. It's sort of there for all to see. I must go with what the Good Book says: "As I live, says the Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked." I have to cling to that.

I must also beg pardon once more. The next few chpt's will be another detour from Kim and Ron as we follow the tragic path of Athalia. Fear not. I will bring you all with me when Kim and Ron meet--the Lion.

Let me get embarrassingly personal. Some of you are at a place like Athalia. I wrote this with you in mind. I have been there--and am still there much of the time. Your heart screams out--yet you hear no voice in the night, either in your ear, or in your own heart

I suffer from depression. I have lost my marriage because, among other things, I am withdrawn--because I spent more time on my computer doing stuff like my stories. But my dearest, as we went to a movie together on the last night before I moved out, who affirmed her love for me still, urged me not to give up on my faith.

Don't give up. I'll be honest. I don't know why He's often silent--anymore than I understand all the suffering and evil in the world. But I know He speaks often enough to for me to keep from completely sliding into the abyss.

Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you will find rest for your souls, for My yoke is easy, and My burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

All who the Father gives Me will come to Me; and whoever comes to Me I will in no way cast out. (John 6:38)

From Every Heart That Is Breaking by Twila Paris:

For the young abandoned husband / Left alone without a reason / For the pilgrim in the city where there is no home / For the son without a father / For his solitary mother / I have a message / He sees you. He knows you / He loves you ./ Every heart that is breaking tonight / Is the heart of a child that He holds in His sight / And Oh how He longs to hold in His arms / Every heart that is breaking tonight / For the precious, fallen daughter / For her devastated father / For the prodigal who's dying in a strange new way / For the patriot with no country / I have a message / He sees you. He knows you / He loves you.

Enough with the preaching. On with the story. Pardon this candid moment.

Kim and Ron by Disney. Narnia by Lewis. Athalia and the name of Jadis's sister by me.

Vaya con Dios, my readers.

_**THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**chpt. 10**_

_**the Birch Girl--her love and her treason**_

Kim and Ron slept in their bedrolls between Melandra and Sinewyn, the two Leopards. One would remain awake while the other dozed.

On the other side of the camp, Kalderion Goldenmane, the huge Centaur, stood sentinel.

The Dwarves, Rimduffle and Turnskillet, slept by the fire.

Athalia gazed up her Prince, Ronald, the Son of Adam, and upon her rival, the Daughter of Eve. The Dryad could feel her heart being pulled out by its roots. It was as though Kim had taken it in hand, just like snapping the branch off the sapling.

_And they did not reprove her! She might have murdered a Dryad! And she is forgiven!_

Between Kim and Ron was Kim's backpack.

There! In her satchel! The Book they kept talking about.

Athalia swallowed the lump in her throat. She lifted her hand. And with the abilities of a Dryad, she allowed slumber to settle on the Leopards.

The two seemed to sleep in snatches. First one, then the other, the green gleam of Sinewyn's eyes, then the blue gleam of Melandra's eyes showing against the spotted fur.

Melandra's eyelids felt so heavy. It felt hot. Humid. Like an August day. Filled with the buzz of insects. Just a small catnap--

Athaiia watched her yawn. Melandra's head began to dip and nod.

As silently as growing grass, Athalia crawled toward the book, her fingers and toes taking root in the ground as she inched toward the group.

A little root poked out of the ground under the backpack and pushed ir upright. Athalia extended her hand toward the backpack--and the Book--whatever it might be. If only she could read for herself, and quell her doubts.

And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, appeared a huge animal in front of her!

Athalia had seen a few lions in her lifetime, so she knew the look of one--but this--.

It was titanic, a magnificent creature. A large feline, like the Leopards, but with a full mane, and brown fur.

Athalia recoiled in terror. She stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. A scream escaped her lips before she covered her mouth with both hands.

The Lion shook His Head gravely and stared sternly at her--

--And Athalia jerked her head upright. She looked dazedly about. She was nowhere near the children, the backpack, or the Book.

She blinked. Was it only a dream--or a vision--or had it really happened?

The Dryad balled up her fists. Her fingernails dug into her palms. She choked back her sobs. _Please! Why can't I see? I only want to put my doubts to rest!_

Athalia heard a voice behind her in the bushes. It was him again..

"Birch Girl. Just as you cast fond glances upon the Son of Adam., the Daughter of Eve casts the evil eye upon you. The wicked intent of her heart is plain for all to see. Do you not wonder if she has some Dark Magic at work in her? Note how easily she escaped punishment for harming a Tree that you had just blessed."

Athalia whispered a curt reply without turning to look at the Speaker. "You mean as I have abilities inherent to being a Dryad? The little nagling endowed with the same unholy capabilities as the White Witch?" She felt a great weariness at having to listen to his constant prattle. She felt him to be such a nuisance. It was almost worse than Kimberly's constant prattle.

The Speaker chuckled. "What? Your faith remains firm? Even after the favoritism shown her by the Leopards?"

She glared at him. "My only faith is in my Prince, Sir! All others are suspect--including you!"

The Speaker chuckled quietly. "Good! Good! You are developing some resilience! Your bark is not so thin as a Human's. But you cannot deny the truth of what I told you about her true character. If she could, she would lay the axe to the trunk of your birch tree and chop it into kindling."

Athalia turned and looked the Speaker in the eye. "But what can I do? As you say--as the Leopards say--she is a Human--and Humans have been given the Lordship of the Realm--by the Lion's own decree."

The Speaker clucked his tongue. "You feel the unfairness of it. As I do. As many others in Narnia do. These mortals, who barely live a handful of decades, have been given the Thrones and the Crowns of the Kingdom. And noble folk like the spirits of the trees and river are assigned a servant's duties. I would not be surprised if the little snipe, once she was a Queen, would bid the dogs urinate on the trunk of your poor dead tree--just for spite."

Athalia sneered at him. "You weave a pretty speech, Sir--but my question remains--what can one such as I do?"

The Speaker leaned toward the Dryad. "There is one who will redress all these wrongs. Her Majesty the Queen, who is kind and generous to all her loyal followers."

Athalia recoiled in shock. "The Witch?"

"Shh. They will hear." admonished the Speaker. "Poor little birch girl. They have deceived you, the Leopards, and others like them. If the Lion were as mighty as they say, would some snow and ice bar His way? Or do you still seek comfort on old tales?"

Athalia trembled with a nameless dread. Once again her anger at Kim became a small thing. At stake was a larger issue. She tried to fight the awful doubt rearing up in her heart. "I have known the Lord Sinewyn all my life, sir--far longer than I have known you. It is a great leap from showing favoritism to the Little Priss to telling me a lie."

"But how will you know the truth from the lie if you have not heard sides of the story?" insisted the Speaker. "Consider. No parent would refrain from telling their cub about the dangers of the world. Tell me which is wisest? To tickle a cub's ear with sweet lies about how safe the world is, or to warn the cub of the hazards to be found in every day of life? Better the cub should have a few cautionary fears in his heart than the face the world like a simpleton--and be eaten alive."

The Dryad was speechless. She could think of nothing to confute what he was telling her.

The Speaker pressed his point. "Are you ready to hear a different story, Athalia, Daughter of the Birch? One that has not been prepared for you, like a thin gruel for a Human Cub? Are you ready for raw food?"

Athalia steeled herself. _If hearing this will help my Prince--then I will endure it._ "Tell me your story, my fellow Narnian," she said simply.

_On her home world, they called her Jadis the Just--Jadis the Gentle. She came to her sister Kandis._

"_Dear younger sister, it is appointed by custom that the eldest should rule. But I have not yet found a spouse, to share the throne. I wish to do right by you. Let us divide the realm. Choose what portion you will. And if Heaven decrees that you find a husband before me, I will abdicate, and retire to some quiet place to live and tend a garden."_

_But Kandis was poisoned by ambition. She tried to assassinate her elder sister._

_Jadis escaped. Each sister summoned those loyal to her side. And the war--the last war--began._

_Her sister's armies laid waste to their world. Not a soul escaped. Father, mother, child. Even the animals. Livestock. House pets. Untamed animals. All things that went about on wing, foot, or fin. And--mark this--all things that grew by seed or root. All things green and leafy, that bore fruit and flower. The sky by day was filled with black roiling smoke. The sky by night was lit by fires that spread from one seacoast to another. And when it was done, all the proud forests were reduced to cinder and ash._

Athalia turned pale. She felt faint and sick. "Where--." She swallowed convulsively. "Where--did you hear this story?"

"As you now hear it. When I was younger, with a heart full of zeal for my Narnian heritage. And I reacted as you react--with loathing and disbelief. But when I began to inquire diligently after these things--and I found that others had heard the story, also."

Athalia felt like a trapped animal. She now wished she had never joined the expedition. She wished she had remained in the grove that was her home, a few days travel to the east.

"I know how you feel, my friend," said the Speaker. "I examined my closely held beliefs. And I could not reconcile them with my new-found awareness. For instance--if the Lady Jadis were really the ravening destroyer of her world we are told she is--would the Lion--Blessed is He--have made her the executor of His Deep Magic? For that is her Mandate--as the legends teach us. The blood of every traitor belongs to her--or else the Land will be overturned in fire and water."

Athalia tried to collect her thoughts. "But--the horrible slaughter--the Solstice Conquest--"

+--The fulfillment of her Mandate, little Dryad--purging the Land of evil."

"--But--so many--such wholesale death was dealt out--surely all were not traitors--"

"And is that any different from the Lion executing judgment on an entire empire? Transforming an entire empire of inhabitants into dumb Beasts? The innocent with the guilty? That too is a sign of His displeasure--when Talking Animals are deprived of their power to speak."

Athalia tried to stem the rising panic in her heart. It was true. She knew the story as well as anyone else in the Land. In the third century after the Creation of the World, the Lion had transformed the entire populace of Calormen to brute animals. But she had never heard from this perspective. She grasped at straws to try and argue--both against her fellow Narnian and her own doubts. "But the Winter--Father Christmas shut out--the children denied--"

"A great struggle ensues, Birch Girl. Two parties strive for mastery in the world. The innocent suffer with the guilty. That is often the way of real life. And even now, fresh arrivals from the World of Adam and Eve come--like these two we escort to the Land of Refuge. Some with hearts of goodness--and some with hearts of wickedness. Some destined for rulership--and some for downfall. You know the old saying--a bad tree produces bad fruit. Which of our two arrivals would you rather see inherit the mantle? Think well, Daughter of the Birch. You saw how Kimberly. broke the living branch of a young sapling. What do you think she will do when she wins the throne?"

Athalia tried one last argument. "But--the Deplorable Word--"

"Another lie! It was a Spell of Preservation! The noble Lady Jadis cast what was left of Charn into sleep! Their life was held in suspended animation, until such time--by the mercies of Heaven--that a powerful wizard should awaken the Queen. And together, they would set about to heal and reclaim their world. But it was not to be. When that time came, there was only one living thing that could be revived. The Queen. She left her world in grief, never to return."

Athalia's heart was in turmoil. She could barely remember the time before the Winter had begun. She could had grown up hearing the stories of the Children of Adam and Eve. Polly Plummer. Digory Kirke. Andrew Ketterly. Frank and Helen Cobbleton. And the Child of Lilth, Jadis. "What should I do?"

"If you wish to help your Prince--you must go to someone who has power to give that help."

"The White Witch?" asked Athalia, her voice laden with skepticism.

The voice spoke in an even lower tone. "You still do not believe. Very well. Listen to the story of the men of Archenland."

It was a short story the Speaker told her.

And it made Athalia turn white as ivory. It made her quake with a ghastly anxiety.

"You have heard all," the Speaker said. "I have put before you the proofs--which anyone with discernment can recognize. You can no longer delay. You must now decide. I would not blame you if you were to run away--if there were any safe place.. Or you might simply become tree-ish--like those Dryads who grow weary of life. But I think you are concerned for your Prince. They will reach the Land of Refuge in only a few days. And after that--your Prince will be beyond your help."

And he left her.

Athalia sat alone in the woods--utterly alone. She knew the prophecies.

_**When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone**_

_**Sits at Cair Paravel in throne**_

_**The evil time will be over and done**_

_**When the Winter is old**_

_**And hearts grow cold**_

_**Two shall come, never apart**_

_**Of two minds, but of one heart**_

She had grown up hearing them. To think she might meet the two--in her lifetime.

And to fall in love--with a Son of Adam. At first it had tingled her down to her toes. She was as giddy as a faun on Midsummer's Eve She would be the envy of every Dryad in her grove!

But the Daughter of Eve. _What a cruel little hag. Spiteful! Malicious! Overbearing! Odious little creature--!._

But words failed to describe how hateful the Princess Kimberly was. Words failed to describe the hurt of her Prince spurning her.

And words failed to describe the devastation of her faith. How in a few days her world had been turned on its head.

She thought about what her fellow Narnian had told her. When she pictured the Lion now, it was not the compassionate Guardian of the Wood--but a ravening Devourer--like the fearful specter of her vision when she tried to reach for the Book. She covered her face with her hands. A sob escaped her lips. "Please--_please_--show me!"

No answer came, either to her heart or her ears as a result of her desperate whispered prayer. The silence was complete.

Athalia stared at the full moon. If she were a Human, she might kill herself. Stories were told of pagans or the Calormenes who took poison, or fell on their own sword to avoid capture, or even jumped into cremation fires in grief at the death of a spouse.

But a Dryad? The only way was to become like a tree. To simply take root and fall asleep. Blissfully unaware.

The face she saw in the moon stopped her. The round chin and big ears. The rude bangs and dancing eyes. Her Prince.

She must seek help for him. Plainly the Lion had rebuffed her. As had the Leopards and Kimberly. The only road left was the one pointed out to her. A fearful road.

_Forgive me, my Ronald, my Prince--my Beloved. I do this for you, and for no other reason. And if the Lion, Blessed is He, indeed __**is**__--if He really exists--if He is Whom we think He is--may He forgive me. May my fellow Narnians forgive me. But I must do what my heart leads me to do._

And as the Daughter of the Birch became like the pollen in the breeze, she glanced back at the sleeping Son of Adam.

_Farewell, Prince of my heart. May you dwell long in your Tree-House. May you meet one like unto your Fearless Ferret among the Talking Animals of Narnia. When you become King, remember to treat them with kindness, and protect them--as the Lion charged King Frank to do--as your Fearless Ferret would do. And when you see a birch sapling in the woods, small and alone--think of me._

_I love you._

Kim and Ron were asleep, nestled between Melandra and Sinweyn.

There was a rustle of little feet in the dry leaves of the ground. Both Leopards turned. It was Freya, the small Fae. She was not flying. That in itself was disconcerting. She bore a look of deadly concern on her face.

"Sinewyn," whispered, Freya, "Are the children asleep? I have news. There is something I must tell you--"

"Yes, little Freya," said Sinewyn expectantly. "Tell me."

The little Fae hesitated. "It will not be to your liking. It is the most tragic--." And she began to weep.

"Freya?" Sinewyn was now alarmed. He rose up. "Walk with me."

They went a few yards away from Melandra, Kim, and Ron. "Now, Freya--unburden yourself."

Freya leaned against Sinewyn's foreleg, and gulped out her message, trying not to be distraught. "My sister Fae, Safra, heard whispering in the bushes outside camp. It was about the Princess Kimberly and the Prince Ronald. She could not see who spoke. But a Dryad left the bushes. It was our Dryad, our companion, Athalia, Daughter of the Birch. We both followed her, fearful of some treachery--." Freya became frantic. " --Oh, Sinewyn--let the judgment of the Lion fall upon me and my sisters for our wicked neglect! We did not think to see which of your party spoke to the Dryad!"

Melandra sensed something ominous. She too rose up and joined her consort, casting her eyes back on the two children.

"Peace, Freya," comforted Sinewyn. "I know the intents of your hearts are true.. Now what makes you thing that there was treachery afoot?"

Freya took a deep breath. "Because we followed the Dryad as far as we could before she became as the breeze and faded from view. In that intangible form, she can travel as fast as thought. Our little wings could not keep apace, even if we could perceive her path. But the direction in which she journeyed--."

"What is it, Freya?" asked Sinewyn, dreading the answer. "You must tell me."

She pointed. "The direction was the to the east--and slightly north."

"That is the direction of the Lantern Waste," said Melandra. "But slightly north--." She frowned. "I am sorry, my dears. I do not know direction very well."

"I do," said Sinewyn grimly. "Beyond the Lantern--slightly to the north--beyond the two hills--beside the tributary of the River--."

Melandra gasped. "--Is her house--_the house of the White Witch_!"

It was like the bell stroke of doom. No one could speak for a moment.

"Freya," said Sinewyn, with deadly quiet, "Return to your sister. Say nothing further to anyone of this matter."

Freya bowed. "Yes, my Lord Sinewyn."

"And, Freya?"

Freya looked up with the eyes of a condemned prisoner.

"Do not revile yourself for what you think is your failure. Treachery is a weapon of the enemy--one we can never wield. But from now on, our vigilance must be redoubled."

"Yes, my Lord Sinewyn," she said morosely.

The two Leopards were alone--and out of the range of hearing of the rest of the group.

"My love--you know what this means," said Melandra quietly.

"I do. There is a traitor among us. And worst, a conspiracy. Athalia was jealous of Kimberly. And someone has used that jealousy and manipulated her Our plans will be revealed to Jadis." He shook his head. "By the Lion's Mane, it makes me furious! These are the works of the Witch! Envy! Hatred! Betrayal! That she should grow so strong as to turn Narnian hearts, and we so weak that we cannot resist the temptation!"

Melandra spoke hesitantly. "Could it be--I hardly dare mention it--Kalderion?"

Sinewyn glared fiercely. "It would explain much. I knew he always held a grudge toward the Archenlanders for what happened to his family--but to hold this much hostility--toward **all** humans--and these little ones. My love--."

"Dear Consort?"

"We have run out of time--and luck. I will let the Children sleep a little longer. But we must waken them in a few hours."

"Sinewyn! The poor dears will be exhausted!"

"I know. It cannot be helped. Even with the two of us, they are as unsafe. We are two against the rest. If the traitor were one--or even both--of the Dwarves, we could manage. But the Centaur? And we can no longer assume the loyalty of **any **of those who travel with us. If the traitor lured Athalia, he--whoever he is--could lure others."

Dismay shown in Melandra's eyes. "May the Lion guide us on our journey."

Sinewyn looked hard at her. "Dearest--if the worst happens--if we are ambushed-- we must be wary. Whoever of our party is the traitor will probably show his hand. It could be Kalderion. It could be one of the sons of Grimble. We could be assailed at our flank as well as our face. At all costs we must defend the children. One of us must hold the attacker--or attackers--at bay, and the other must take the Children to the Land of Refuge."

Melandra stared alarmed at Sinewyn. "My love! I cannot abandon you!"

"You must!" whispered Sinewyn tersely. And--may the Lion, Blessed is He, forgive me--and may you also forgive me--I also must be prepared to do the same if you are the one who must hold back any assailants. This mission must not fail, if the Thrones of Cair Paravel are ever to be filled! Our King has placed His faith in us. One or the other of us must see Kimberly and Ronald to journey's end. Promise me!"

"Sinewyn--my love!" pleaded Melandra. "Please! Do not ask--!"

"Melandra! Heart of my heart! Companion! Love of my life! In the Name of the Lion! **Promise me!" **he whispered fiercely.

She nodded, subdued.

He sighed. "it is well. Now come. Let us take our rest with the Children. I will watch while you sleep, and then you will watch. We will spend our last hours with these little ones, whom I love as though they were our own cubs."

And with heavy hearts, they walked back to the encampment.

_**to be continued**_

And soon, we will learn of the tale of the Archenlanders, that caused Athalia so much terror.


	11. Chapter 11:in the house of Jadis

I have a couple years of old emails and reviews to answer--about 1200, more or less. I'm starting with the old and working my way up to the present day. Like Ron says to the O-Boyz fangirls: "All your questions will be answered."

Ninja Master: will Ron meet the White Witch? Yes. And so will they. And so will you. Become evil? She'll try. She tries that with all the Children of Adam and Eve.

Hermione Solo: you are such a delight. "The Lion! yay! Double yay!" And boo, hiss! As Shakespeare says in Macbeth, act 4 --By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes. Or someone. Yes. Poor Athalia. Her head's been turned around--and it's not done. Huggle her? You go ahead. I'm sure she needs it.

trecebo, Wolfpack7, screaming phoenix, Bobboky --thank you all.

I've had this chpt done for a while. It's short. I waited, because I wanted to square away Slackjaw. Like Kim, I love the dumb dog. And he just sort of showed up one day in my head. Like Dug--that lovable lamebrain dog in the new Disney Pixar movie, Up And is it just me, or does Alpha remind anyone of Fangdrip?

Y'all have been my faithful readers for years. And I've kept promising you a real Narnia story--with real a real Narnia character.

I don't know if this will really sastify my readers--or just make them want more. I promise you. I'm a' hurryin' on my stories--in my Glacially Slow way.

You Kim Possible fans--I know--not a mention of Kim Possible. Strange for a K.P. fanfic. And just a reference to Ron Stoppable. I beg your patience.

St. Paul says in Romans 7: When I would do good, evil is present with me. When the Lion, Blessed is He, makes a move, someone else is trying to checkmate it.

The book makes reference to Mr. Tumnus's father. I have given him a name in the last chpt.

The appearance of the Queen is based on the description given by C.S. Lewis. The crown of icicles is taken from the movie The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe.

_**THE LION, THE TREEHOUSE, AND THE NAKED MOLE RAT**_

_**chpt. 11 **_

_**in the house of Jadis**_

The Dryad entered Narnian air space. The frigid temperatures hindered her passage. She went as far as she dared before materializing again.

There was a gleam in the trees. She made her way through to the clearing.

It was the Lantern. High above her its faint cheery glow softly lit the snow-filled glade. But there was no cheer in the heart of the Dryad

She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream to the skies.

Athalia had desired all her life to see one of the sights of Old Narnia. The vast plain at the Ford of Beruna. The Stone Table, with its laws and Deep Magic engraved. Or even the castle of Cair Paravel.

But here was the monument to Narnia's founding. Jadis had tried to cave the Lion's Head in with a section of iron lamppost from the World of Adam and Eve--or so the story said.

Athalia put her hand on the cold iron pole. There was no sense of life--like when she earlier touched the little birch sapling. It was an artifact of _his_ world--her Ronald--but it had none of his warmth.

The old tales. She did not know any more. What were the truth of the stories of her youth? What was the truth of the secret history revealed to her by her fellow Narnian?

She dare not waken any of the spirits of the trees. On this the stories agreed with what had been told to her. Some of the trees were for the Lion. Some were for the Queen.

It was well-known that a friendly fellow dwelt nearby. Tumnus, son of Rimnok the faun. He often strolled in the woods with his warm scarf 'round his neck carrying his parasol. He was a great poet and player of the flutes. He could charm fire from a cold hearth--or a cold heart. He could bring rest to troubled soul. He was famous for his hospitality. Cakes and tea for all guests. But could even he be trusted?

A troubled soul. That expression had no meaning to her--until now.

Athalia was wrapped in despair. She thought about merely curling up and falling to sleep, letting herself freeze to death. But in the end, it was a vision she saw as she gazed into the light of the lantern. The yellow flame like the yellow hair--the freckles--the honest brown eyes and warm smile. It was the vision of her beloved Prince's face.

The Queen's castle was still many hours' swift walk away. The Dryad folded her arms in an attempt to stay warm. The silky diaphanous gown she wore was hardly enough to ward off the bone-chilling cold. As well as she could on the slippery ground and through the deep snow drifts, she made her way toward it.

There it was--beyond the two hills--like a picturesque little palace. Too large for a house, too small for a castle.

She stumbled into the courtyard. Her feet were numb. Her arms were numb. Her ears and nose burned with the bite of the frost. But the sight that met her eyes filled her with horror.

Statues. Of all kinds of creatures. Dwarves, Talking Animals big and small. Bears, beavers, and birds. Squirrels and salamanders. Unicorns. A Dragon and a Giant. Even other Dryads. Their faces frozen in sadness--even agony.

These were the victims of the Witch's wand. Turned to stone--forever.

Here was a goose and her goslings huddled together--awaiting the death stroke.

Here was a Marshwiggle, staring as though in a stupor.

Stories came flooding back to her memory--stories she had forgotten--other Dryads said the spirits of those made stone haunted the courtyard, never to rest. But worst still was the fate of those who the Witch called "traitor". They were stabbed to death--sacrificed on the Stone Table. Their bodies were devoured by the Witch's Secret Police--the wolves.

Something sharp poked her in the back. Stifling a screech with both hands, she turned. It was the horn of a stone Unicorn.

Here was a Dryad--an Elm Girl, by the look of her. Her hands cupping her face, not daring to behold the White Witch.

Weeping, Athalia began to rebuke herself. She had been played for a fool. Jadis was not Just--or Gentle. Glancing frantically about, she began to leave--

--It was too late. She heard a growl behind her--a stone figure had come to life! She began to sob in terror. "I am sorry--I didn't mean to come here!"

She turned again--it was a huge wolf. She stifled another scream.

More wolves appeared out of doorways. Half a dozen in all surrounded her.

The biggest wolf reared up in the courtyard and the little Dryad yelped in fright. He was as large as the Centaur, Kalderion Goldenmane.

"I am Fangdrip, the Queen's Captain," he said in a horrid growling voice. "State your business, little tree-girl."

"I am the Dryad, Athalia." Her terrified whisper was barely audible.

A trumpet blew. A voice announced. "The Queen of Narnia! The Empress of the Lone Isles! Every head bow!"

Each wolf whined and buried its head in its front paws. There was the crunch of feet in the snow and the swish of a garment. The Dryad lifted her head. She saw a gown of rich material. A jeweled bodice was around the waist. An ermine coat covered the upper body and arms. The person was tall and slender. Fine manicured hands lightly carried a long silver rod ornately carved, like a scepter. It was the terrible wand of the stories--the wand that transformed living things to stone--like the courtyard figures. Long dark hair curled to the waist.

"Lift your face, little one. Would you have your Queen stoop like a kitchen maid? Let me see you." A commanding voice spoke, cold with malice.

Athalia looked up. The face of the Queen was beautiful and terrible. Skin white as snow. Delicate aquiline nose. Chiseled cheeks. Frowning lips red as blood. Frosty black eyes full of disdain. A crown of icicles sat upon the top of her dark hair.

The little Dryad's fear skyrocketed. The stories said that Queen claimed human ancestry. It was also true what the stories said--it was a human face--without a single shred of human warmth, or love, or decency. Not a vestige. Not a hint. Not a trace. The beauty of the face made its evil all the more monstrous. It was the face of she who called herself the Queen of Narnia and Empress of the Lone Isles. It was the face of the White Witch--Jadis.

She tapped under the Dryad's chin with the unholy wand. In a voice as smooth as silk, but filled with serpent's poison, she asked, "And who have we here? What is your errand, Daughter of the Birch trees?"

_**to be continued**_

And there you have it, my dear readers. What I have been struggling toward for the past 3 years. With both the Witch and the Lion--**now **it's finally a real Narnia story.


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